


Sugar and Spice

by Tilltheendwilliwrite



Category: Avengers AU - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, No Daddy Kink, Sexual Harassment, Shameless Smut, Smut, Sugar Daddy, тэг заменён на Don't copy to another site
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2020-03-05 11:23:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18827707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tilltheendwilliwrite/pseuds/Tilltheendwilliwrite
Summary: Avengers AU - Steve Rogers is an overworked, but well paid, top attorney for the law firm Stark, Potts, and Rhodes. The youngest to ever make partner, he spends his days in the office or the courtroom, and his nights alone.When he meets Rowan Maddox - a paralegal working hard to finish her law degree - it’s an instant attraction, but she doesn’t date, and he has no time for relationships. When Steve offers up an idea that can solve both their troubles, can they keep it professional? Or will pesky things like feelings get in the way?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will contain aspects of lawyers lives and rowing that I am not familiar with. While I do my best to research as much as possible, I am not perfect. Please forgive any screw-ups that occur along the way. Also remember that this is a work of fiction and as with all fiction, I will be taking liberties with reality. Thanks! T~
> 
> Warnings: Language

* * *

 

Steve stalked off the elevator on the third floor, made a sharp left turn, and walked straight into someone. "Christ!" fell from his lips as scalding hot liquid erupted over him, while a yelp of pain came from the person, now sprawled on the ground, he'd run down.

Jerking his shirt away from his chest, a nice Armani he'd purchased a few months back that had quickly become a favourite and was now ruined by coffee, he took in the tangle of limbs, the hot and cold take-out coffee cups, and dark chocolate hair that tumbled down _her_ chest.

What appeared to be white silk - also ruined - clung to every lush curve, deep valley, and soft plain of the woman's body. An emerald green pencil skirt, covered in froth and foam, did nothing to disguise her long legs, capped off by shoes better suited to a club than a courthouse.

She was sex on legs and spitting mad as a wet hellcat. "What the hell!" she barked, shaking streams of coffee from her arms. "Who the fudge barrels off the elevator like his pants are on," she looked up and paled, her voice lowering to a whisper, "... fire. Um…" She swallowed thickly. "Cap… Captain Rogers. I'm… so sorry! I wasn't watching where I was going. Please send me the bill for your dry cleaning, and I'll reimburse," Steve crouched down and her voice became a high pitched squeak, " _you_!"

Steve could only stare. She was smart if she was working in this firm, sexy, and apparently intimidated by him. Everything south of his belt stirred to life. Instant attraction wasn't something he felt often, but this woman… she intrigued him immediately.

“Been a few years since anyone called me Captain,” he chuckled, aware of the lowered timbre of his voice as he picked the coffee cups off of her.

She blushed, dark red washes of colour sweeping through her cheeks while lashes, thick and long, hid her pretty eyes. A pure tone, they were like warm whiskey, burnished, and made for savouring at his leisure.

“I’m… finishing my law degree at Yale. Extended program. I saw a few of your races back in the day.”

He held out his hands and waited, watching as she hesitated before taking them. Soft, smooth flesh skimmed over his palms and sent a shiver down his spine. What he wouldn’t do to feel those hands tracing down his naked back. “You know, it used to irk the other teams that my guys called me Captain.”

“Why?” she asked, lifting those lush lashes to show him her eyes as he helped her to her feet.

Even with her killer shoes, she was a good four inches shorter than him. Steve found that all too enticing. “I should have been Bowman, that was my position, but,” he shrugged, “my guys were a unit, a team. I liked motivating them, and when we drilled, Pietro worked them hard but it was me who gave the pre and post pep talks. It became a running joke that stuck. Are you alright?”

"Soggy, but otherwise uninjured," she nodded. 

He glanced down, his thumb sliding over the cuff of her blouse. Not silk, but a damn good fake. He took in the way the coffee stains made the garment cling to her, now sheer, showing off the white lace and baby pink ribbons of her bra. “Do you have a change of clothes, Miss…?”

“Maddox. Rowan Maddox.” She glanced down, gave a small sigh, and pulled the wet material away, taking his view of that pretty lace with her. “Unfortunately, no.”

Then her name registered like a bell in Steve’s brain. “Wait… are you _Euphemia_ Rowan Maddox?”

She flinched and frowned before a resigned noise spilled from her lips. “Yes. How did you hear that name?”

“Professor Fury,” he grinned.

She flinched harder and crouched to begin cleaning up the coffee cups, a whispered, “Dear Lord,” escaping her.

“He’s a hard-ass,” Steve chuckled, “but impressed by you. No wonder you’re interning here.”

Her head snapped up, eyes flashing. “I’m not an intern, _Mister_ Rogers. I’ve been a paralegal here as long as you’ve been a lawyer!”

The Hellcat was back. He found he liked her spitting mad, glaring at him with big burnished whiskey eyes. “Is that so?”

She stacked the cups and tray that used to hold them and dumped them all in a nearby trash can. “That is so, _sir_. I assisted you on the Davis versus Kline case nine months ago!”

That wasn’t possible. He was sure he would remember her. That face. Those eyes. He frowned. “No… you didn’t.”

Angry colour flushed her cheeks. “Yes, _sir_ , I did.” She turned on those killer heels and stalked away, throwing over her shoulder, “Send me the bill for your dry cleaning. I'll reimburse you.”

***

After returning to his office and changing his shirt, Steve couldn’t get her words out of his head. It wasn’t possible. How had he _not_ seen her nine months ago? Davis versus Kline was an intense case requiring all his focus, but he would have seen _her_.

Finally, unable to stand it, he called Sam.

“Wilson.”

“Wow, nice greeting,” Steve snickered.

“Cap! Long time!”

He could hear Sam’s grin. “Too long. Beers this weekend?”

“I’m prepping for a trial, but I can probably cull a couple of hours. What you need, Steve?”

“Davis versus Kline-”

“Ah, that shit better not be in appeal!” he groaned.

Steve snickered. “Nah. Just a question about the staff on that case. Who was the paralegal?”

“Paralegal? Uh…” He could hear Sam rifling through his desk. “Something tree.”

“Tree?”

“Yeah, like Willow or Aspen…”

“Rowan?”

“That’s the one! Sweet brunette. Legs for days. Worked damn hard.”

“Fuck!” Steve barked and scrubbed his hand down his face. “I gotta go.”

“What did you do?” Sam said, soft and low. “Did you sleep with her and forget her name?”

“No!” Though he’d done that before, it was while at school when he was still young and stupid. “I ran into her today. May have stuck my foot in my mouth.”

“That’s not like you, Cap. I thought you were all suave and shit with the ladies?” Sam snickered.

“Who the fuck has time?” Steve grumbled. It had been so long since he’d last gotten laid, he was beginning to wonder if it was just going to shrivel up and fall off.

“Preach, brother. I gotta go. You hitting up the rest of the crew? We can make a night of it?”

“I’ll see what I can do, but you’d better not punk out on us if I can swing it. We’ll barbeque and see about shoving Odinson in the pool.”

“Deal!” Sam laughed and hung up without saying goodbye.

Steve set the receiver down and stared at it for a moment before picking it up and dialling another number.

“House of Witch.”

“Scarlett wonder. I thought you were too famous to answer your own phone anymore?” he teased.

Wanda laughed, sweet and sultry. “When the infamous Steve Rogers calls me up out of the blue? How could I not answer myself?”

Steve chuckled. “How’s Pietro?”

“Good. Running the marketing division. He’s bent on expanding the line overseas.”

“So he’s not gonna be around this weekend?”

“He’s in Japan. Why?” she asked, sounding intrigued.

“Trying to get the crew together for a boy’s night. Not the same without the loudmouth coxswain,” he smirked, knowing it would make Wanda laugh.

“He was that, but he will be gone for a few more weeks. He'll be sad to have missed it.”

“I’ll throw another when he gets back.” He swallowed, tapped his fingers on the top of his desk and murmured, “So… can I ask a favour?”

“For you, Captain? Almost anything.”

He sighed in relief. “Here’s what I need…”

***

Rowan was still seething sixty minutes later after going to the lady’s room and doing her best to get her shirt dry. There was nothing she could do for the stain all over her, and to make matters worse, Mr. Jensen had yelled at her for being careless. The coffee had been for the clients in the conference room, and after explaining the accident - the men with him looking on in sympathy - the asshat Jensen had ushered her out of the room by roughly grabbing her upper arm.

Once outside with the door shut, he dressed her down loudly, and publicly, until tears of humiliation burned her eyes. Already humiliated by her interaction with Mr. Rogers - she refused to dignify him by using his first name even in her mental musings - a man she’d once looked up to, one who’d inspired her because he fought so hard for his clients, having Jensen yell at her was just the icing on this very shitty cake.

Her boss had dismissed her from the meeting, calling in Stan - the brown noser - McNally whose smug face said it all. He was gunning for her.

Well, too damn bad. She needed this job. With a year and a half left at Yale, she couldn’t afford to lose it. Instead, she’d returned to her desk where she worked diligently on reports, research, and the never-ending to do list from her boss.

When the delivery person showed up, she startled. “May I help you?”

“I’m looking for Rowan Maddox?”

She blinked in surprise. “That’s me.”

“Then this is for you.” The man held out a box that was blood red with gold lettering scrawled across the top.

Rowan stood to take it and had her eyes grow round in disbelief. “Holy hell! House of Witch!”

The man chuckled. “Have a good day.”

“It’s getting infinitely better,” Rowan murmured as he walked away, though she had no clue who would send her something so… expensive.

She carefully slipped the black velvet ribbon holding down the lid off the corners and opened the box. Inside, a folded piece of creamy cardstock sat on eggplant purple tissue paper. The card had a stylized gold ‘W’ on the front she lifted out and opened to read.

_Rowan,_

_Forgive me?_

_Steve R._

Her mouth fell open. Ste- Mr. Rogers sent her this? She set the card aside and gently peeled back the paper, revealing dark blue fabric. Carefully she lifted out the garment, and watched it unfold into a vintage reproduction of a sleeveless, empire waist, pencil dress she knew would fit like a glove. “Oh, my god.” Even without the distinctive red box, she would have known the design as House of Witch with the signature black lace that edged the neckline; like a peek at a ladies undergarments.

“Hot dress,” Shirley smirked, striding out of the office across the way. “Who’s it from?” She snatched the card from Rowan’s desk before she could stop her. “Ooh! Who’s Steve? What did he do? You didn’t tell me you had a new boy toy.” Then she arched a brow at the dress and box it came from. “Or should I ask if he’s a sugar daddy?”

“What? No!” Rowan blushed. “It’s not like that!” And she wouldn’t tell Shirley if it was. There was no bigger gossip in the office than the middle-aged mom of three.

Still, the woman smirked like she knew something Rowan didn’t. “Well, it was very nice of him to send it to you after your… accident.” Her eyes widened. “No! Not,” she pointed at the ceiling, “upstairs Steve? Steve Rogers, Steve. Caprogersabs Steve from Instagram Steve!”

“Of course not!” Rowan huffed, but her damn red face gave her away.

Shirley shooed her out from behind her desk. “Go! Hurry and put it on. I want to see it, and if you get back before Jensen, so much the better.”

Rowan clutched the dress to her chest, cowed by the woman’s ‘Mom voice,’ and hurried toward the ladies room. Once inside, she had a moment to think about whether or not she should accept something so expensive from a man she hardly knew. From a man who clearly thought so little of her, he didn’t remember spending weeks together on a case as important to her as it was to him.

She caught sight of the dress in the mirror. Okay, maybe he thought _something_ of her if he was willing to replace the clothing he’d ruined because yes, even though she’d apologized, it was his damn fault in the first place!

With a shake of her head and a muffled scream of frustration, Rowan went into the largest stall, stripped down to her underwear, and reverently tried on the dress. She could have groaned at how it felt on her skin. Soft, supple, almost erotic. It whispered over her flesh in ways she hadn’t known clothing could.

Pride in her appearance was something Rowan had been careful to project from the moment she’d finished her training to be a paralegal. She’d been with Stark, Potts, and Rhodes for four years and knew looking the part was important. No, she couldn’t afford designer clothing like Miss Potts, but she did her best with discount stores, careful coordination, and frugal spending.

She wasn’t rich, far from it, and when she’d decided to look into law school, the cost had made her flinch, but with help from people like Professor Fury, she’d been working her way through the classes on an extended timeline. Her first partial year had been Steve Rogers last, and the year she’d watched him and his team win victory after victory in the men’s heavyweight rowing.

She’d thought him hotter than hell in University, but the man had only gotten better with age and experience. His highering to the firm had been a shock to her senses, leaving Rowan speechless and thankful he worked six floors above her.

A severe crush had developed in Uni, one she’d firmly stamped out, or so she’d thought. As she’d played the part of stuttering, blithering idiot earlier, it was pretty clear she hadn’t stamped hard enough.

Taking her clothes with her, hoping she could - somehow - get the stains out, Rowan left the stall and took a moment to admire the dress. _The man had good taste._ Though when he’d had the time to pick something out she had no idea.

_Maybe he does this with all the women he runs down?_

A little shot of jealousy had her straightening her spine. What did it matter if he did? He didn’t even remember her to begin with.

Rowan shoved out the door and stalked back to her desk where Shirley oohed and awed over the dress as Rowan folded her clothes and placed them in the red box, added the card, and tucked the whole thing beneath her desk. Eventually, Shirley huffed off when Rowan’s grunts and murmurs of agreement weren’t enough to satisfy her curiosity, leaving Rowan to her thoughts.

A quiet ping on her computer had her checking the inter-department instant messaging.

S.Rogers: _Did you get it?_

She hesitated before answering, but she’d been raised to be polite when given a gift.

R. Maddox: _I did. Thank you, though it wasn’t necessary._

S.Rogers: _It was completely necessary! There was a lot more coffee on you than me, and I’m the one who ran you down._

She didn’t bother to answer him as there was no question. Five minutes went by before a new ping was heard.

S: Rogers: _So… am I forgiven?_

R: Maddox: _For running me down? Yes._

S: Rogers: _Just for running you down? Guess I’ll have to do better._

Rowan frowned. 

R. Maddox: _What’s that mean?_

There was no answer, and Rowan could only stare at the screen, waiting, the beginning threads of trepidation sliding down her spine.

“Ms. Maddox!” Mr. Jensen's voice made her jump.

“Sir?” she asked, swivelling toward him on her chair.

“We don’t pay you to sit around and daydream.” His brows pulled together as he took in her changed clothes. “Nor do we pay you to take breaks to run out and buy new clothes!”

“Sir, I didn’t-”

He slammed his hand down on her desk, making her jerk back. “As you are _clearly_ no longer wearing a coffee-stained blouse, I can see you did!”

“Jensen!”

This time the sharp bark made her boss jump and spin to face the newcomer and smile. “Mr. Rogers! What can we help you with today, sir?”

Blue eyes blazed beneath downward drawn brows as Steve scowled at him. “You can stop terrorizing your staff to start!” That intense gaze shifted to Rowan and softened. “Thank you for accepting the dress as my apology, Miss Maddox. I felt terrible after running you down in the hallway.”

 _Oh, crap…_ She could see Shirley grinning gleefully from the corner of her eye, but lifted her chin and straightened her spine. “It was kind of you, though unnecessary,” Rowan said, repeating herself from their earlier text.

Steve only smirked. “Completely necessary.” He looked back at Jensen, and his face lost all semblance of amusement. “Now that we’ve established Miss Maddox’s worth as a valued paralegal and not the slacker you take her for, I have business to discuss with her in regards to a case we worked on.”

“What case?” Jensen muttered, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Davis versus Kline.”

“Were you unsatisfied with her work?” Jensen asked, almost hopefully.

“No. She was a valued member of my team.” Hard eyes once again softened when Steve glanced her way. “Rowan, please?”

He motioned for her to join him, but her knees had lost the ability to hold her up when her name rolled from his tongue. She squeezed her thighs together and climbed to her feet, skirted around Jensen, ignored the look from Shirley, and followed Steve down the hall to the elevator where he pressed the up button.

“Mr. Rogers, I-”

He shot her a look that had her biting her tongue until the doors slid open, they stepped on, and the doors closed. After he pressed the button for the ninth floor, he lost his rigid posture, his hands tucked into his pockets, and he turned toward her with a smile. “Sorry to cut you off like that, but Jensen is a prick.”

Rowan barked a surprised laugh. “If I agree with you, will I be fired?” she asked, closing her hand subconsciously over the spot on her arm her boss had grabbed earlier.

“Our secret,” Steve promised, his smile boyish and sweet.

“Good. I have bills to pay.”

His grin became darker and less sweet when his gaze travelled down her dress. “I knew that would look nice on you. Classy with just a hint of sex kitten.”

Her mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”

“Dollface, you were makin’ the same statement in what you had on earlier.” His eyes were deep blue when they lifted back to hers.

“How so?” she gasped, affronted and, surprisingly, a little turned on.

He stepped closer, towered over her, made her heart pound and knees weaken. “You looked professional as fuck in that skirt and blouse until I covered you in coffee. Classy with just a hint of sexy thanks to those shoes and other things.”

He’d gotten an eyeful of her underwear through her soggy blouse she suspected. Rowan stepped back and found the wall behind her. “I should slap you for implying what you’re implying.”

He stepped forward. “But you won’t.”

“How do you figure?”

His gaze landed on her mouth. “Because every word I just said is the truth.”

Her chin lifted in challenge. “This constitutes sexual harassment, Mr. Rogers.”

A lazy smile curled his lips. “One could say that. Or, you could join me for dinner, and we can call it flirting.”

Rowan stiffened. "Mr. Rogers, if you expect me to sleep with you because I accepted the dress you've got another thing coming."

"What? No!" Steve huffed and stepped back.

The elevator stopped, and he ushered her down corridors with plush carpets and mood music, his hand warm against her low back. He was the youngest ever to make partner in the firm, and his office showed the perks when he encouraged her inside and asked Deborah to hold his calls.

"Now, Miss Maddox. The dress was an apology for nearly drowning you in coffee. It is _not_ payment for expected services!" His eyes flashed anger, sharp and hard like cobalt.

It was far too sexy when he clenched his jaw like that. "It was a reasonable reach in logic when it wouldn't be the first such… proposition I've had in this position."

He jerked back like she truly had slapped him. "Excuse me! Tony and Pepper would never allow-"

Rowan arched a brow. "Yes, because they have eyes _everywhere._ " She was finding his indignation amusing. Was he really that naive? "Perhaps we should move on to why I'm here, Mr. Rogers. The case with Davis and Kline was rock solid, so I know it's not in appeal."

"How do you know?" he asked curiously.  

She fought not to roll her eyes and chose to walk over to the window instead. He had a very nice view. "I put in three hundred hours on that case. I know it forwards and backwards. There was zero wiggle room. I even checked the lab results three times, making sure there could be no mistakes."

"Damn," he murmured. "You were the bulldog."

"I'm sorry?"

"I called the lab. They said my bulldog had already triple checked the results and to leave them alone." A smile grew on his lips. "Well, now I definitely need to take you to dinner. I can't have the best paralegal in the department pissed at me."

Rowan cocked her head. "No."

He looked stunned. "No. Just like that?"

"Just like that." She moved toward the door.

Steve's hand latched around her arm in the same place as Jensen's, making her hiss and pull away. "Rowan?" His voice was sharp and eyes hard but he held her gently. "How the fuck did you get that? It can't be from the fall."

She glanced at the rather distinct thumb shaped bruise on the side of her arm. "It's not. It happened after."

“How?”

Cold. How could a voice go to ice with nothing but a drop in octave? It stunned her, and frightened her a little, even as a charge of excitement ran through her core. That _command_ voice was a weakness of hers, and when she lifted her gaze to his, she could tell he knew it by the twitch of his lips.

She lifted her chin, once again defiant. “I fight my own battles, Steve.”

The cold was lashed away by the heat that burned through those cobalt eyes. “That’s the first time you’ve called me by name.” His free hand came up, and the other slid down to cup her elbows gently. “Have dinner with me, Rowan. I owe you an apology, growing bigger by the moment it seems, for not remembering you from the Davis case. I don’t know how…”

He frowned, seeming to wrack his brain for the answer, but she knew and sighed in defeat. “It’s not your fault, Mr. Rogers. That case was a bitch. I’m pretty sure by the end of it you and Mr. Wilson were walking zombies. It doesn’t matter.” Add in everything she did to avoid having direct contact with him, going to Sam - his partner at the time - with whatever news she had, and it made it pretty easy to duck his notice.

“Still,” he smiled, boyish and charming again. “Dinner makes for a nice apology.”

She slowly removed her arms from his grasp. “It really isn’t necessary, and I don’t date.”

He looked surprised. “At all?”

Rowan blushed, embarrassed. “Who has time?”

“I hear that,” Steve chuckled as he stuck his hands in his pockets. “Can we still consider the elevator incident flirting?”

She smirked but nodded. “Sure.” After all, she’d said no, and he looked to be respecting that decision, unlike _some_ people who just kept pursuing her after repeated rejections. Rowan swung toward the door. “See you around, Mr. Rogers.”

“Rowan.”

She paused with her hand on the doorknob and looked back. It wasn’t fair for a man to be that pretty.

He smiled and made her heart flutter. “It was nice running into you.”

Rowan couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, it was. After all, I got a House of Witch dress, something I could never afford, out of the deal.” She threw him a smile and slipped out the door, his hearty laughter following her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Language

* * *

 

Rowan looked from the piddly amount of change in her wallet to the cafe board and sighed. The price of a latte was ridiculous. “Who has five bucks to spend on coffee?” she grumbled quietly, resigned to the dark roast with extra cream.

The chuckle behind her was deep and surprisingly familiar.

When she turned around to find Steve, she arched a brow. “Mr. Rogers.”

“Miss Maddox.” He stepped up beside her when the person at the till moved out of the way. “Venti caffé americano and whatever the lady is having.”

She arched a brow at his high handedness but wasn’t in the mood to argue about free coffee. “Venti cinnamon dolce latte.” Rowan watched him smile and sweet talk the cashier as he paid before ushering her to the side to wait for their drinks. “Thank you for the coffee, but are you following me, Mr. Rogers? I’ve never seen you in this shop before.”

“Would I do that?” he smirked.

Rowan crossed her arms, her lilac sweater pulling along her shoulders. It was a touch too small after her roommate had put it in the dryer instead of reading the label like a normal person, but she liked it too much to get rid of it.  

“Okay, okay. I _might_ have seen you come in here and followed, but it’s been a few days since I saw you last and wanted to check in. How’s class?” He tucked his hands in his pockets in that ‘ _See? I’m harmless and adorable_ ’ way of his.

“Class is fine.” She eyed him for a moment. “What are you up to, Rogers?”

“Just looking to buy my friend a coffee.”

“Friends are we?”

He fairly oozed charm when he picked up both their cups and held hers out, but before she could take it, he pulled it away. “I would certainly hope we’re friends.”

He held the cup back out, and she plucked it from his fingers, watching as he snagged two lids. She stepped out of the way of the next patron, ran her index finger through the cinnamon powdered whip cream, then licked the sweet white fluff from her finger. “Colleagues at least.”

His eyes darkened as he followed the action of her tongue. “You’re a cruel woman.”

Rowan laughed and made her way toward a table where she sat and crossed legs covered by dark grey pants, letting her shoe dangle from her toes. “And you are a serial flirt.”

He chuckled, joining her at her table before sliding a lid her way. “Charming. The word you’re looking for is charming.”

“I stand by my statement, counsellor.”

He barked a deep laugh, leaning back to clutch at his chest, reminding her again how damn cute he was. She took in the comfortable clothing, jeans and a Yale heavyweight crew sweatshirt, and cocked her head. “Slacking off today?”

“No, ma’am. Finished up a court case yesterday. The verdict came down in favour of my client, so today is my celebratory day of rest. But I left my notebook on my desk last night. Ran in to pick it up.”

“Congratulations on the win.” She saluted him with her coffee, aware that Stacy - one of the other paralegals - had worked with him.

“Thank you. Maybe you should have dinner with me to help celebrate.” He said it casually, a teasing glint in his eyes over the rim of his cup.

She smirked and shook her head. “I don’t think so. So, _Captain_ Rogers, what will you do with your day of leisure?”

“Well, now that I've had my heart crushed for the second time,” the man could wield a serious set of puppy eyes, “figured I’d get in a row before getting ready for this weekend.”

“Planning on throwing a rager?” she quipped, licking another bit of whip off the top of her coffee.

He shook his head, grin wry. “Hey, those parties at Sigma Chi were not my idea.”

“I never went, but I've heard stories.”

“Don’t believe everything you've heard.” There was a twinkle in his eye that said she should probably believe every damn word. “But no ragers. This weekend is just the crew getting together. It’s been a while.”

“So you’ll be manly men, drink beer, talk about women, and throw thick slabs of meat on the barbeque while grunting and scratching yourselves inappropriately?”

He laughed so hard he almost fell out of his chair. “Oh, man.” He had to wipe the tears from beneath his eyes before toasting her with his cup. “Damn, girl! You’re something.”

“Why thank you, Captain.” She tilted her head in regal acknowledgement.

“Now that we’ve established my neanderthal tendencies, shouldn’t you be in the office, Miss Maddox?”

She felt her face twist into a sour grimace. “Ugh. Jensen cut my hours in favour of his new acquisition.”

“Beg pardon?”

Rowan looked up and blinked at the intensity with which he was staring at her. “I’m sorry?”

“What’s that mean?” He sat forward, forearms crossing on the table. “Acquisition.”

“McNally. Stan McNally. His nose is so far up Jensen's ass it will need to be surgically removed.” Then she snapped her mouth shut and looked down at her latte. “I probably shouldn’t have said that.”

“Why?”

She chanced a glance at him and sighed to find he was still staring at her. “You’re boss adjacent, Rogers. You may have had your own words to say on the matter of Jensen, but that doesn’t mean I should be mouthing off about him to you.”

“Hey.” He reached across the table and touched her hand. “You don’t have to worry about any of that, Rowan. I would never repeat what you've said here. It’s clear he’s a dick to you.”

That’s what happened when you turned a man down multiple times, culminating in threatening to report him when his advances went from annoying to downright harassment. “I’m used to it.”

“But you shouldn’t have to be. You’re good at your job. There’s no reason for him to treat you like that.”

It was kind of him to say so and made her smile. “Thank you, Steve.”

He grinned and winked at her. “I mean it. So, that’s why you’re heading to work late?”

She nodded. “Not starting until eleven, which would be awesome if sleeping in were at all possible.”

“Earlier riser?”

“My roommate,” she sighed. “Candy couldn’t sleep past six if her life depended on it.”

“You could always move.”

Rowan tossed him a look of condescension. “I can’t afford a latte. I’m lucky Candy puts me up on her couch for the pittance I pay her.”

A new frown crossed his face. “I know paralegals make less than I do, but it can’t be that bad.”

“Says the man who made it through law school on a scholarship.” She smiled to offset the words for she wasn’t bitter. He deserved it, but dammit! It was hard and expensive, and even more costly to live in the city, travel for school, and make ends meet. She had bills just like everyone else, and a few more most people didn’t.

He held up his hands in surrender. “Fair enough.”

"It gave me the chance to catch up on some homework, but the drawback of being up that early and not heading to school or work?" She raised her cup. "No coffee."

His face became a mask of horror. "What? How the hell do you function?"

"Candy says the scent of coffee messes with her aura." She rolled her eyes. "I think the weed she and her boyfriend smoke on the roof at night messes with her aura a whole lot more." 

"I'm beginning to think you and Candy aren't very good friends," he chuckled into his cup.

"Try not friends at all. She needed a roommate. I needed cheap rent." Rowan glanced at her watch. "I should get going. It may be a half day, but I still should avoid being late."

He scraped his chair back and stood with her, both snapping down the lids on their take-out cups. "Let me walk with you. I've got my notebook to pick up before heading out."

As they were heading the same direction, it seemed silly to decline, and she smiled at him when he held the door for her. "So what's next for the great and powerful Captain?" she asked, ridiculously comfortable with him. He still made her libido howl, but she planned on ignoring it until its voice gave out.

"It's getting to be _that_ season," he sighed, hand latching to her elbow to draw her out of the way of a man on his phone who wasn't paying attention to the world around him.

"What season?" she frowned, sending the asshole a dirty glare - not that he noticed.

"Gala season. So many fundraisers, so little time."

"Well, jeez, Steve. Don't sound too excited. I might get jealous," she snickered.

His exasperation was evident when he glanced at her. "Har har, fucking har har. You're a real card, Miss Maddox. That's some mouth you've got."

"Inherited it from my mother. She used to be able to make my father mad with nothing more than a quick quip and a smile." She gave him _that_ smile and giggled when he arched an unamused brow.

"Don't start, Rowan."

"Don't give me the opportunity, Steve."

Something dark, dangerous, and desirable flashed in his eyes, causing her breath to hitch. His attention dropped to her mouth before lifting back to her eyes where they locked, a predator honing in on his prey.

"You've got some lip on you."

He didn't have to say it for her to understand he was implying he'd like to put her mouth to better use, but it wasn't until someone slammed into her shoulder and knocked her off balance that she realized they'd stopped walking in the middle of the sidewalk, stuck staring at each other.

A dark blush bloomed in her cheeks when they resumed walking. "Guess it's a hazard of how I was raised."

He hummed a contemplative sound. "Getting back to your question, I find the schmoozing of networking, fundraising, and client trolling to be boring, but Tony and Pepper like to roll out the 'fresh meat' to meet prospective clients."

"Yes, I imagine all that food, the beautiful gowns, and the dancing to be an absolutely atrocious waste of time." She smirked and shook her head. "You'll never convince me it's anything but awesome, Steve. Sorry."

He didn't contradict her like she expected, and when she glanced up, he was looking at her funny again. "What?"

"Nothing. Just thinking." He pulled open the door to their office for her and waved at the reception desk when the ladies called hello.

At the elevator, they stepped onto an empty lift and rode up together.

"You sure you won't have dinner with me?" he asked, leaning against the wall. "This was nice. I liked having coffee with you, Rowan."

She smiled, for once not minding the persistent male attention. He was funny and sweet, and exactly the kind of guy she'd always thought he could be. "It was, but I've got to fit eight hours of work into four, and then catch the train to New Haven for my night class. Professor Fury wouldn't understand missing it, not even for you." She poked an index finger into his chest.

"Wait, you take the train to get there? Rowan!" he gasped.

"What? I've been doing it for a few years now. It's fine." She waved him off and walked out the door on three.

"It's not safe to take the train back into the city at that time of night," he insisted, slapping a hand to the door when they tried to close in his face.

"Stop fussing like an old man. It gives me time to work on my homework," she called as she walked away.

"Rowan!" he barked.

"Goodbye, Steve. Thanks for the coffee." She raised it overhead as she walked away, smirking a little when she heard "Dammit, woman," growl from the elevator.

Exasperating Captain Steven Grant Rogers was becoming a new favourite pastime, and she'd only done it twice.

***

At nine Rowan stumbled out of her classroom, having spent the last thirty minutes as one on one time with her professor. Fury could be such a hardass, but the man just _knew_ stuff. When she could get him talking, he could expound insights on things she hadn't even thought about yet.

She'd gotten into a heated debate with another student over the case they were studying. Her points were valid - Fury said so - but Dylan hadn't been able to let it go. Like a dog with a bone, he'd argued and badgered and finally sneered at her that she was nothing but an airheaded, pretty girl skating through life on her looks, pissing her off and angering the rest of the class.

Fury had ejected him from the lesson, telling him to cool off and get his head on straight, that shit like that wouldn't fly in a courtroom, and if he couldn't hear what other people had to say and not take offence like a pansy, maybe he should rethink his career path.

Dylan hadn't liked it much, storming out and slamming the door behind him. Fury had pulled her aside to make sure she was alright when class ended, leading to the impromptu meeting.

Exhausted and stressed - work had been four hours of hell - Rowan stuffed the last of her books into her backpack, not looking forward to the walk to catch the train.

"Hey! I want to talk to you, Rowan." The sharp bark had her shoulders tightening.

"I think you said quite enough, Dylan," she huffed, slinging her backpack onto her shoulders.

He jogged up beside her, a frown on his face as he paced her toward the doors. "Look, Rowan. I just wanted to apologize. I got some … bad news today and took my emotions out on you. I'm going to go back and apologize to Fury too, but I wanted to catch you before you left."

Pausing before the doors, Rowan smiled up at him. "Thanks, Dylan. I appreciate that. I'm sorry for whatever happened today."

The pain made lines in his face as he sighed and seemed to deflate. "My mom was diagnosed with cancer. They're hopeful, but it was a shock."

"Oh!" she gasped. "Oh, Dylan! I'm so sorry!" She acted without thinking, throwing her arms around his neck. "If there's anything you need help with, let me know, okay? If you need to go see her, I can help with class notes."

He seemed surprised, but quickly smiled and hugged her back. "Thanks. Thanks a lot, Rowan. I'll let you know. I better hurry to catch Professor Fury, but thanks for understanding." He patted her back and jogged away.

She watched him go before pushing out the building doors and skipping down the stairs with a lighter step. An apology did wonders to lift her mood until she looked up and stumbled to a stop at the vision before her.

"Steve?"

He looked relaxed leaning against the side of a sleek silver car, but underlying tension in the set of his shoulders and crossed arms made her wary.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, walking cautiously toward him.

"Waiting on you. Though I expected you thirty minutes ago." His gaze flicked to the building and back.

"I had a meeting with Fury. Why are you waiting for me?"

He pressed off the car and held open the door. "You can't ride the train this time of night. It's damn near three hours to get home, plus the wait time if you miss the first train."

"So you drove the two and a half hours it takes to get here to pick me up? Steve!" she scolded. "That's crazy!"

A pink flush filled his cheeks. "Wasn't doing anything anyway. Now you'll be home by eleven instead of twelve thirty, get a decent night's sleep, and be ready for the weekend."

She stood on the sidewalk a few feet away, shuffling from one foot to the other. "This really wasn't necessary, Steve."

"Humour me. My ma raised me to be a gentleman. Thinking of you riding the train alone gave me the same anxiety I used to get when I broke something, and she hadn't noticed yet. She'd never forgive me if I let you take the train when I have perfectly adequate transportation." He patted the roof of his car, the door still open in invitation. When she hesitated a moment longer, he cocked his head, gave a smile that was just crooked enough to be boyish and full of charm along with the same eyes as earlier.

"Rogers quit flirting and get Maddox home safe." The sound of Professor Fury's voice made Rowan jump.

"I am trying, sir. She's the one being bullheaded," Steve smirked.

Fury gave her the steely-eyed glare she'd grown used to; somehow conveying more annoyance with one eye than most people could with two. "Maddox get in the damn car. Rogers isn't going to eat you, and if you end up in the East River, I'll be the prosecutor on his trial."

She giggled at the look of shock on Steve's face and shifted her backpack from her shoulders. "I'll hold you to that, sir."

There was a twinkle in Fury's eye as he lifted a hand in farewell and strolled into the dark, the shadows seeming to engulf him.

"He's still occasionally terrifying," Steve shuddered, taking her backpack from her as Rowan got into the car.

He shut the door, keeping her bag with him, made his way around to his side where he pulled his seat forward and tossed it gently in the back. "Damn. That's heavy. I'd forgotten the size of those books."

"Helps me keep my girlish figure," Rowan snickered, taking in the interior of the car. 

She knew next to nothing about cars, but this one was too pretty with its silver-grey leather interior, royal blue accents, and shining chrome to be anything but expensive. A manual transmission, he flowed through the change of gears with practiced ease, and the quiet purr of the engine had her glancing his way.

"Swanky ride." She knew partners made bank, but this car was something else.

"It was a gift."

"You're shitting me!" she gasped.

He chuckled and shook his head. "From Tony and Pepper when I made partner." He lifted his hand from the gear shift and tapped a finger against the top, drawing her gaze down to the medallion with his initials emblazoned on it.

"Holy fuck," she murmured, then cleared her throat. "Sorry. My mouth gets progressively more foul the later it is in the day."

"It's fine, Rowan. I've dropped an F-bomb or two in my life."

She snorted a giggle. "Or two? _Please_! I've heard you post-race using the f-word like it's punctuation."

He guided the car out onto I-95. “Yeah, well, I still had my frat boy mouth back then. Today I try to be a bit more professional.”

Rowan turned to face him as much as the seat belt would allow, pulling the elastic band from her ponytail. She ran her hand through her hair, massaging the back of her head where the thick mass had sat for the last few hours. “Only a bit?” she teased, drawing her hair over her shoulder.

“There’s that lip again.” He shot her a glance and shook his head. “So, tell me something I don’t know.”

She blinked and smiled at him. “The Falkland Islands minefields have become an accidental nature preserve for over a million penguins because they don’t weigh enough to set off the mines.”

He gave a surprised bark of laughter. “Is that true?”

“Yup.”

“Wasn’t exactly what I meant,” Steve snickered. “I was thinking more along the lines of how you came by your name.”

“Ugh!” She fell back against the seat and whined, “Why?”

“Curiosity. Euphemia isn’t exactly a common name.”

Rowan sighed and cast him a sidelong glare. “Euphemia - originating from the Greek for “fair speech.” It was my dad’s choice. He was a history professor specializing in Ancient Greece and the Byzantium era while dabbling in early Orthodox traditions. Euphemia was a martyred saint, and then hundreds of years later an Empress. He liked the rarity of it, but everyone wanted to call me Effie, which he hated. Mom chose Rowan. She ran a second-hand bookstore. The Rowan was her favourite novel. Science fiction. The first book of series. She liked how strong the woman became. How confident. She always said she hoped the name would provide the same for me. When Effie became untenable for my dad, they went with Rowan. It’s harder to shorten into something cutesy.” She smiled over at Steve. “They couldn’t stand cutesy.

“I gotta say, I think your mom’s wish came true.”

“Yeah?” she asked softly.

He took her hand without looking and squeezed it. “Yeah. How long have they been gone?”

She jerked in surprise. “How did you know?”

“Past tense. You speak of them in past tense.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t noticed herself doing that and looked down at their hands. “It will be ten years soon.”

“Christ, I’m sorry. You had to be what, seventeen?”

“Yeah. They never saw the truck that hit them.” She tugged her hand away and looked out the window. It was still painful even all these years later. “The police came to my high school. I didn’t even know they did that. I figured they waited until you got home and then came to your house, but no. They had Mrs. Hendrix - the school counsellor - pull me out of biology. At one point I wanted to be a veterinarian, you know. Help animals. Save the planet. After, I couldn’t even crack the textbook without wanting to throw up.”

“You don’t have to tell me, Rowan.”

She shrugged. It was old news even if it was hard. “Mr. Jackson, the principal, he was very kind. Tried to break the news gently, but that kind of news, it’s just not possible. Afterward, my aunt came down and stayed with me until I turned eighteen, let me finish school with my friends. Then it was straight into becoming a paralegal. I worked for a smaller firm for a while before getting in with Stark, Potts, and Rhodes.”

“So why become a lawyer?”

She shrugged. Her reasons, her own.

“It’s a long drive, Ro.”

“I don’t do cutesy either, Rogers.” She turned to glare at him.

He was smirking, lit up by the dashboard lights. “Why not? It suits you.”

“No, it certainly does not!”

His grin wasn’t getting any smaller. “Why a lawyer?”

“You’re like a dog with a bone.”

“Or a lawyer,” he quipped.

“Touché.” She tipped an imaginary hat and made him chuckle. “It was the accident. What happened to my parents. Their accident could have been prevented with proper maintenance of the truck that hit them. Had I known then what I know now, I never would have accepted the settlement I was offered, which wound up being a really crappy one. I would have fought tooth and nail to see the company’s policies changed. Instead, eight months later, there was another accident. This time a six-year-old boy died. His parents had better legal counsel than I did. They got it right.”

“Ro…” he sighed softly, brows furrowed in worry.

“Sometimes, at night, I blame myself for that boy’s death.” She held up her hand when he made to speak. “Is it irrational? Yes. I understand that, but I still think, if I’d known more or had better legal representation, I could have made the difference before it was too late. Instead, he died.”

“Ro, that’s not on you. You were still a kid yourself.”

“Feelings aren’t always rational, Steve.” Again he collected her hand and held it. She didn’t pull away. “Paralegal was the best I could do for a while. Financially, I couldn’t swing law school until a few years ago, and only then because Professor Fury took pity on me and helped me work it out with admissions. My dad never worked at a place like Yale, but he was well respected. When Fury found out I was George Maddox’s daughter, he helped open some doors.”

“He speaks highly of you, Ro. Fury doesn’t do that unless you’ve impressed him. You’re good at what you do. I look forward to seeing what you can do in a courtroom someday.”

She couldn’t help but smile shyly at him, his hand still gentle on hers. “That’s nice of you, Steve.”

“Just the truth.”

A blush warmed her face. “So, quid pro quo. Why a lawyer?”

“I like to argue.”

She laughed but shook her head. “Try again.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “I really do like to argue, but I also believe in truth, justice, and seeing those who need help get it. Yeah, Stark shoves a lot of high profile stuff my way, but I also like working with the little guy. Down on his luck, just needs a hand. The pro bonos. I don’t like bullies no matter what their size or shape.”

Another quiet snicker escaped Rowan as she smirked at him.

“What?” He eyed her suspiciously.

“Maybe they should call you Captain America. Truth, justice, and the American way. Captain Steve Rogers, here to save the day.”

He laughed softly, sending her a warm smile. “Sure, but no spandex.”

“Aw, c’mon, at cap rogers abs. You know you could pull it off.”

“Jesus!” he barked more laughter. “Do you seriously follow me on Instagram?”

“Nope, but Shirley does.”

More laughter ensued as they flew down the highway. “I swear I was such a meatball back in the day. I can’t believe some of the crap that’s on that account.” Then he shot her a side-eye. “What’s your Instagram?”

“I don’t have one.”

Surprise raised his brows. “Facebook?”

“Nope.”

“Snapchat? Tumblr? Twitter?”

“That’s a negative all around.”

“Why?” he whined, voice full of petulance.

“Accessing social media requires a phone with a data plan.” She performed a hip thrust and partial bridge as she dug her phone from her pocket and waggling it between them. “You’re lucky it links with my work calendar.”

He snatched it away to stare at the spiderweb of cracks on her iPhone 4. “Seriously, Ro! The company has a plan for employees that includes an up to date phone!”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Yes, it does. Ask Shirley about it next week.”

She frowned, not understanding. “Steve, I’ve worked there longer than just about everyone. If there were a phone plan, I would know.” Unless… could Jensen really be that big of an asshole? “Son of a bitch. That asshat!”

“Jensen?” he growled.

“Maybe,” she muttered. “What a jerk.”

“Sustained.”

He made her giggle. “Thanks.”

“Any time.”

Steve squeezed her hand and drew his away. It felt oddly empty after, but she curled it into a fist in her lap. A few minutes of comfortable silence stretched, broken only by the low, silky voice on the radio.

"Who was the guy?"

The question came out of nowhere, startling her out of the light doze. "What guy?"

"The one you hugged."

Too casual, his voice was a quiet, smooth question without inflection that sounded odd coming out his mouth. "Dylan? He's just a classmate."

"I see." His jaw was tight. His words clipped.

"No, I really think you don't," she murmured.

"Perhaps you should explain it to me." Blue eyes swung her way and held for a hard moment before returning to the road.

Rowan sat and studied him before speaking slowly and softly. "I don't owe you an explanation, Steve." His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "But you were nice enough to drive out here to get me, so I'll give you one this time. Dylan is a classmate. Today he and I got into a debate about Mapp versus Ohio. He got hot, said some… not nice things and Fury ejected him from class. He was apologizing for his actions, explaining he just found out his mom has cancer. What happened had little to do with me, I was just where his anger and fear found an outlet, and that's why I hugged him."

The tension eased out of his jaw. "Shit, Ro. I'm sorry. That was a dick move on my part."

She turned her face to the window, saying nothing. The silence was less comfortable now.

“His mom gonna be okay?”

“He said they’re hopeful.”

“That’s good.” She could feel his eyes on her but continued to watch the dark landscape go by. “Ro, please. I’m sorry.”

“I told you I don’t date, Steve. I don’t have time, but if I did, it would have nothing to do with you, and you would have no say in _my_ life.”

“You’re right. Absolutely.”

She turned to look at him, surprised by his easy agreement. “Really?”

He glanced her way and nodded. “Yeah, Ro. I’ll admit, I had a pretty big shot of jealousy watching you hug him. That’s on me, not you.”

“Jealous, huh?” It gave her ego a gentle stroke.

“Well, you keep turning me down,” he pouted, but the sparkle was back in his eyes.

“That’s because your trouble with a capital T, Rogers.”

He gasped dramatically. “How dare you, madam!”

She leaned across the gap, her seat belt pulling against her chest. “Oh, I dare.”

Laughter exploded out of him. “Damn, woman!”

Rowan was a mass of giggles in her seat. Making him laugh like that was right up there with exasperating him. 

Conversation came easy afterward as he asked about Mapp versus Ohio and her thoughts on the case, flowing effortlessly into her discussion with Fury regarding the same. It surprised her when he not only agreed with her statements but seconded them, then expounded on the case in a way she hadn’t even considered, carrying further into some of Fury’s ideas and comments.

Time passed quickly, and she was soon directing him to her building in Lincoln Square. When they pulled up outside, Steve got out, grabbed her bag from behind his seat, and met her as she was climbing out of the incredibly comfortable car.

He stood staring up at her brick building. “You’re not really sleeping on the couch, are you?”

She chuckled and stole her backpack from his fingers. “No, I rent a room.” He didn’t need to know her bed consisted of the pullout couch that had once belonged to her parents, or that the rest of the furniture belonged to Candy beside the mini fridge that housed her measly amount of groceries.

“Okay, that’s good.” He shut her door and locked his car.

“What are you doing?”

“Walking you to your door.”

She arched a brow. “Why?”

“Because my ma raised me right.”

The sly grin made her laugh. “You’re something else.”

When he snagged her pack from her and slung it on his shoulder, then played keep away with it for the first five steps toward the front of her building, she gave up and let him have it. When he casually took her hand, she let him have that too.

At the front of her building, she dug her keys from her pocket as he let her backpack slide from his shoulder. “I do appreciate the ride, and the company was nice, Steve, so thank you for picking me up.”

“You’re welcome, Ro.” He brushed her hair back over her shoulder when the light breeze blew it into her face. “I like knowing you're safe.”

“You’re sweet,” she murmured.

“Does that mean I get a hug?”

She laughed at the pleading eyes and pouting lips before stretching up on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck and place a swift kiss on his cheek. The scruff of stubble he wore was softer against her lips than she expected. “Have fun with your boys this weekend.”

His arm was around her waist by the time she tried to draw away. “If it weren’t a guy thing, I would invite you.”

“If I wasn’t busy, I might accept.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “And just what are you up to this weekend?”

“Besides mountains of homework? Reams of research for Jensen.”

She sighed and made to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her go. “You’re going into the office?”

“Working from home.”

“Rowan,” he scowled.

“Steve, I need this job. He’s already cut my hours but expects me to get the same amount of work done. If that means working from home, I have to do it.”

“It’s not right.”

This time when she pulled away, he let her.  “I’m a woman working in an industry that’s still considered an ‘old boys club.’ It may not be right, but I’m not going to whine about it. I have eighteen months until I graduate. I have bills that need paying. Stark, Potts, and Rhodes pays more to their paralegals than any other firm. _I need this job_ , Steve.”

His brows were pulled so far down, she wondered if the wrinkles would be permanent. “But, Ro!”

“Mr. Rogers! I’m asking you to stay out of it.”

He pulled a face. “But…”

“Friends know when to butt out, Steve.”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s dirty pool.”

“Hey, I use what I’ve got,” she smirked.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he grumbled, handing her her backpack, “but friends also ask for help if things get rough. Remember that.”

She shouldered the bag and nodded. “I will, Steve. He’s an ass, but he’ll move on to making someone else miserable eventually.” Unlikely, but a girl could hope.

He gently played with the ends of her hair before tucking his hands in his pockets. “See you Monday, Ro.”

“Good night, Steve,” she smiled and unlocked the door. He headed for his car once she was in the building, but before the door could close, she called out. “Hey, Steve?”

He turned around to walk backward. “Miss me already?”

She rolled her eyes. “Cutesy’s for kittens. Don't call me Ro!"

The door shut on his burst of laughter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Language, Jensen is an asshole

* * *

 

"You burn that meat; I'm kicking your ass, punk."

Steve glanced up from where he'd been staring intensely into the grill and focused on Bucky. "You haven't been able to kick my ass since sophomore year."

"Distracted as you are," Bucky held out a beer, "I could have you down and handcuffed in seconds."

"Handcuffing someone without cause would take the shine off that pretty new badge of yours," Steve smirked and took the bottle, poking the gleaming detective's badge hanging from Buck's hip. "Good for you, man. You've worked hard for that."

"Still can't believe you made partner first. What a putz," he snickered, swigging from his bottle.

"Kiss off, jerkwad," Steve laughed.

Best friends since before he could remember, Steve was used to name-calling and snark, giving back as good as he got from the man beside him. 

A mighty bellow and thunderous splash had both of them looking toward the pool where Thor stood with his massive arms raised in triumph on the deck while Sam and Clint sputtered in the pool.

"You're all so puny! I shall never be bested!" he was crowing.

"Was he always so arrogant?" Bucky asked, pulling his shirt over his head. 

"Always," Steve chuckled. 

Bucky threw the shirt on a lounge chair and tugged the badge from his hip, handing it to Steve. "Take care of that." 

Steve nodded, putting it down beside his beer, away from the flames but close enough to keep an eye on it. The gun Bucky arrived wearing, having just finished at work, had gone into the wall safe in Steve's office before he'd wandered barefoot into the yard, but the badge was new and needed showing off.

Then Bucky shucked his jeans and stepped out of them, leaving him in a pair of boxer briefs. Which would have been fine if not for the fact they were covered in mustaches. 

"The fuck are you wearing?" Steve smothered a laugh as Bucky got into a runner's stance. 

"Proceeds from the mustache Saxx underwear support Movember, funding critical men's health research. So can it, dumbass." He took off in a hard sprint straight for Thor's unsuspecting back and tackled the big blonde into the pool.

The splash sent water everywhere as the boys all cheered.

"Way to go, Sarge!" Clint laughed when Bucky rose to the surface and shook the water out of his face.

"It's Detective Sarge now," Sam smirked as he heaved himself out of the pool. Unlike Buck, Sam had changed into swim shorts before trying to shove Odinson in the pool.

"Damn right," Bucky grinned, patting the pouting Thor's shoulder. "Sorry, pal. But you deserved that."

"I see I've arrived in time to miss the traditional dunking of Thor," Stephen smirked from the patio doors. "Excellent."

"Don't be like that, Doc," Bucky said, hauling himself out of the pool. "We could always add the traditional dunking of the doctor to the evening's events." He waggled his eyebrows menacingly, making everyone but Stephen laugh.

Stephen stepped farther from the pool's edge. "I think not."

As he still wore scrubs, Steve figured he was on call from the hospital and playing 'Drown the Doctor' was a bad idea. "Glad you could make it, Doc," he nodded as Stephen wandered closer. "Barnes! Go put on some trunks. No one wants to see that!" Steve barked when he noticed Bucky was wringing out his underwear, now nude and freeballing it. "And for fuck sakes! I leave towels right there for a reason. Cover that shit up. I don't need you teabagging all over my furniture!"

Bucky flipped him off but grabbed a towel. "Jesus. Guy buys a fancy-ass house and gets all uppity."

"That man still has no concept of acceptable levels of public nudity," Stephen snickered. 

"I have no idea how we managed to live with him for four years. And it was worse when we were kids. I've seen more of his dick than I think I have my own."

"You're just jealous 'cause mine's bigger," Bucky sang as he made his way inside. "Hey, Scott!" he greeted the man rushing onto the patio.

"Sorry, I'm late! Cassie wanted one more story before I could get away. Then I remembered I'd forgotten the beer." Scott Lang grinned at the men in the pool. "Who pushed Odinson in?"

"Barnes," Thor pouted. "He cheated."

"Of course he did!" Scott laughed.

"All that's missing is T'Challa and Pietro," Sam smirked wandering over to hang out at the grill. "You gonna flip that chicken, or are we doing things cajun style?"

"Fuck!" Steve barked and flipped the chicken.

"You seem distracted, Cap," Sam teased. "Perhaps you're thinking of, oh, I don't know… trees?"

"Shut it, Wilson," Steve growled.

"Trees?" Scott smirked. "What like aspens?"

"Or willows?" Clint called.

"Maybe pines?" Stephen added, shooing Steve out of the way. "Give me that. Let a master work."

Steve rolled his eyes as the doctor took over. "Alright. Who told?"

Bucky walked back out wearing a pair of trunks. "Wanda told Pietro. Pietro put it in a WhatsApp."

"Of course she did," he sighed. "Loudmouth coxswain never could keep a secret."

"Is it a secret?" Thor asked.

"Also," Sam held up his hand while looking at his phone. "T'Challa says, "We better send pictures of the girl because anyone who can make Steve grovel is someone he wants to see.'"

"It's not a secret and no pictures!" Steve huffed. "I ran her down in the hallway and felt bad about ruining her clothes!"

"He also forgot who she was," Sam chirped. "Worked a case with her and didn't even remember."

He made a tsking sound that had Steve crossing his arms and fighting not to blush. "It was the Davis and Klein case! I'm allowed to be a scatterbrain for that one. She even said so!"

"Wait, you've talked to her since? I thought you just sent her the dress! OMG, are you seeing her?" Sam asked, his face lighting up with excitement. 

"I'm not seeing her!" Steve barked when they all snickered and nudged each other. "I asked her out, and she said no." 

Scott and Clint both gasped. 

"He's lost his touch," Sam murmured, pity replacing the excitement of earlier. 

"Damn shame," Bucky nodded.

"And at such a young age," Thor sighed.

Steve glowered at them. "Fuck all of you. It wasn't like that. She's busy!"

"Washing her hair I bet," Stephen smirked.

"Et tu, Brute?" Steve grumbled. 

"You've got such a nice blush goin', pal. How can he not?" Bucky snickered. 

Steve rolled his eyes and went to get another beer. "Look, she's taking night classes to get her law degree, works as hard as any of us, and doesn't have the time." He slammed the lid on the cooler. "She's no different than us, Sam. Or you, Buck. Or Stephen. We can't all be Thor with a new girl on his arm every week."

"Just because they're there doesn't mean we're dating, Captain," Thor said. "Most are models as I am, working to increase our public image."

"See? No one's got time for a girl except Clint who lucked out in high school, and Scott who's girl is five."

"Very true," Clint grinned and clinked his beer against Scott's. "To us. The only ones with women in our lives."

"Here, here. Though - while I adore Cassie - I'd still like a grownup woman too," Lang sighed. 

"You're all losers," Clint sniggered. 

"I will tell Natasha to beat your ass, Barton," Bucky threatened.

"As much as I do not want to out myself, I must be excused from the ranks of the pathetic. I have a girlfriend," Stephen murmured. 

"What! Since when?" Sam cried. 

"Since the lovely Miss Maximoff and I started seeing each other."

The smug grin had them all speechless until Steve punched Stephen in the shoulder. "You son of a bitch! You finally did it!"

"Fucking took you long enough, Doc," Bucky laughed 

"Pietro knows?" Sam asked suspiciously. 

"Clearly, he does not, or you would all be ribbing me as badly as you are Steve."

"C'mon, man! Your dating his sister! You have to tell him," Scott frowned. 

"We plan to tell him when he returns from Japan." He shot them all a hard look. "So keep your yaps shut!"

"Fine, fine. But you better tell him, Doc, or we will. No secrets from the crew," Steve warned.

"Not a secret. We wanted time to see if we fit before telling Pietro in case it didn't work out."

"Understandable," Steve said.

"Now, back to this girl of Steve's," Bucky smirked.

Steve shoved him in the pool.

***

Hours later when the food was nothing but a memory, the cooler was down to the last few beers and everyone, but Bucky had called it a night, catching cabs home or in Stephen's case back to work, Steve sprawled on the big couch in his living room and stared down the contemplative look Bucky was giving him from the other end. 

"What?"

"You've been evasive about this girl all night. What gives, punk?"

"Nothing!" he huffed. 

"Nope. Not buying it. If it were nothing you would have given all the details, talked about her ass, and shrugged it off. You like her, don't you?"

Steve sighed. He'd never been able to hide anything from Bucky. "Yes."

"You gonna elaborate or just sit there like a dumbass."

"You're a prick," Steve grumbled.

Bucky raised his beer. "And you love me anyway. Spill." 

Steve spilled. Everything from the moment they met to saving her from the asshat Jensen, to flirting - badly - in the elevator and asking her out. When he got to their meeting in the coffee shop, Bucky had a shit-eating grin on his face and was digging his phone out of his pocket. 

"Why are you looking at me like that, dork?" Steve finally asked. 

"Because you're head over feet for this chick and haven't even figured it out yet," he snickered, looking at his phone.

"What!" Steve barked, then deflated when Bucky threw him the _don't be a stupid punk_ face. "Fine. Kind of. She's… incredible. All smart assed and sassy one minute, then sweet and calling me _Captain_ in the next, and I just wanna…"

"Pin her to the wall and fuck her brains out?"

Steve groaned and let his head fall to the back of the couch. "Yes." No point in denying it. "She's got this mouth on her, this lip that makes me want to do things to her that would make the devil blush."

Bucky chuckled. "Now I really want to meet her. If she's got you this riled up, she must be something."

"Getting her to go out with me is like pulling teeth. It took Fury prodding her to get her in the car last night."

"Last night?" Bucky looked up. "What was last night?"

Steve rolled his head to the side. "She rides the fucking train home from New Haven. The fucking train, Buck. I drove out and picked her up after class. My ma would box my ears if she knew Rowan rode the damn train at that time of night."

"And how did Miss Maddox take you butting into her business?"

Steve lifted his head to glare at him. "How do you know her last name?"

"I asked Sam." Then he held up his phone. "Record check is clean."

"You dick! You didn't!"

"Of course I did!" Bucky snorted. "You're a fancy-schmancy lawyer now. Gotta make sure the honeys coming for my boy aren't gold diggers."

Steve threw a pillow at him. "I hate you."

"You love me." Then he grinned. "What the hell kind of name is Euphemia?"

"Greek. Her dad's choice."

"Yeah? Guess that drive was wisely spent," he snickered. 

"It was," Steve murmured, a frown coming unnoticed to his face.

"Then why do you look like you just licked a lemon?"

He glanced a Bucky. "Jensen's a dick to her. Yells at her in public." Or so Shirley told him later. "Cuts her hours yet expects her to do the same amount of work. It's not fair. Plus he's been keeping her unaware of the perks of working for Stark."

"Such as?"

"A decent phone plan for one. Who else knows what he's kept from her."

"So what are you gonna do about it?"

He sighed and shook his head. "Right now? Nothing. She asked me not to."

"Steve, come on! You drive all the way out to New Haven because she rides the train, but you won't say anything in your own office?"

"She asked me not to. Told me to keep out of it." 

Bucky arched an intrigued brow. "Which you'll do… sort of, if that face is anything to go by."

A devilish smirk spread. "I'm sure Stark will throw something on my desk this week. If not him then Pepper. Either way, pretty sure I'm going to need the assistance of a paralegal to get through it."

"There's my boy. Get a little closer, late nights, closed doors. See if you can't find out what's under Miss Maddox's skirt?"

"Don't be a douche, man!" Steve threw a pillow at him. "I like her. I respect her. I won't go looking to make that kind of trouble for her at the office."

Bucky held up his hands, apology written on his face. "So how are you going to wine and dine this woman?"

Steve smirked before he drained the last of his beer. "Gala season is here. I think I can convince her to be my date."

"How?"

"Well, she responded well to a House of Witch dress once. This time I'll make sure to include shoes."

Bucky barked a laugh and shook his head. "You planning to cultivate a sugar baby, Steve?"

He shrugged. "I'd really just like a date. And it's not like I don't have the money." He waved a hand at the house.

"True that." Bucky saluted him with the beer. "Just be careful, Steve. I don't want to see you get hurt if this girl turns out to be a gold-digging tramp."

"I'm the one pursuing her, Buck. Not the other way around."

He shrugged and climbed to his feet. "What better way to catch a man than by being uninterested?"

Steve didn't buy it, not with Rowan. He'd worked enough divorce cases in his junior years to see the sense in what Buck said, but Rowan wasn't like that at all. 

He almost wished she were. It would make getting a date a heck of a lot easier. 

"Being a cop has made you cynical." Steve pushed to his feet and took the empty bottles into the kitchen. "I assume you're staying?

"Yeah. You gave me my own fancy room. Of course, I'm staying," Bucky chuckled. "Look, pal. You're my bro. Just… be careful, okay? She looks good on paper so far, but looks can be deceiving."

Steve gave a small nod. "I will. But just so you know, she looks good off paper too."

"Yeah?" Bucky smirked.

"Hair like dark chocolate and caramel, eyes like aged whiskey, and legs that go on for days."

"Sounds like you want to eat her," Bucky snorted

 "Son, you've got no idea," Steve snickered. 

"And an ass that won't quit, I'm sure," he teased.

"A perfect peach."

Bucky laughed and shook his head. "You're so fucking corny."

"I know," Steve chuckled and went to lock up.

***

Rowan was ready to throw in the towel. Between mock trials at school, real trials at work, Jensen being an ass, and McNally doing everything in his power to undermine her, Rowan was at her wit's end. 

Three cases had landed on her desk, but when she'd requested more hours to do the research, she'd been denied. Now she was elbow deep in the damn copy machine, sure she had toner on her face because McNally and his brown nose couldn't _possibly_ be tasked with fixing it, not when he had a lunch meeting with none other than Mr. Stark himself. 

She pulled back with a hiss having sliced open her palm on something sharp, and kicked the damn thing three times for good measure while swearing in a steady mutter under her breath.

"I find if you talk nicely to the machinery it tends to work better," quipped a voice from behind her.

Rowan rolled her eyes but didn't turn around. "Nice went out the window forty-five minutes ago. I'm opting for too stubborn to give up."

He chuckled and a shoulder pressed against hers, nudging her over. "They do tend to jam, don't they?"

"Seems like this one eats something every damn day." Rowan glanced to her left and jerked in surprise. "Mr. Stark! I didn't realize it was you!"

He gave a dismissive shrug, though he smirked at her, his eyes dancing with amusement behind rose-tinted glasses as he pulled the pocket square from his suit jacket and tied it around her hand. "It's fine. You're Rowan, right? Rowan Maddox? Shirley speaks very highly of you."

Heat rushed to Rowan's cheeks. "Yes, I am, and I'll have to thank her."

He continued to smirk but looked down at the innards of the copier. "What seems to be the trouble?"

"Ugh, at this point your guess is as good as mine. I've pulled out the jammed paper, fiddled with the tray, made sure it had toner. Yet every time I close the doors, I get an error message."

"Well, let's see what's happening, shall we?" He pulled a multitool from the inside pocket of his jacket and turned it into a pair of pliers.

"Do you always carry that?" Rowan asked.

"If I didn't like arguing so much, I might have gone into robotics. I enjoy tinkering, though Pep stopped letting me do so in the conference room. Still," he dropped to his knees and crawled behind the copier, "there's always something that needs fixing."

Rowan could only stare in astonishment as the man wearing what she was sure was a Hugo Boss suit - the pocket square now covered in blood and grease likely worth more than her rent - sit on the floor and began unscrewing the back panel. He had it off in no time. 

"Hm. Remind me to fire the maintenance people, Miss Maddox."

"Why?" she frowned.

"They are hired to fix, repair, and clean these copiers quarterly. By the looks of this one, it hasn't been touched in a year."

Soon other components were being removed he handed to her over the back of the machine. "Are you sure you can put this back together?" she asked tentatively.

He gave an inelegant snort. "Please."

"Hey, I'm just asking."

"I've done it before, and I'm pretty sure if we take out this," something big, black, and greasy landed on the top of the copier, "and this," a silver cylinder, "and this," something rubbery, "I should be able to…"

"Able to what?"

"Rowan, sweetheart, be a lamb and shine your phone's flashlight down through the center of the copier."

She blinked but quickly pulled it out and did as asked.

"Great! Now," he wiggled around until he was on his back under the machine, feet braced on the wall, "slowly move it around."

"Why?" she asked as she complied.

"The light should shine on- ah-ha!" The machine jumped a little as he fixed whatever the problem was. "There's the little prick." 

Tony rolled out from behind the machine waving the pliers holding the tiny scrap of paper like a flag.

"That's it? That's what caused everything to jam up and quit?" It seemed unlikely.

"Highly probable," he nodded sagely. "The spaces where the paper goes are skinny. This stuck little square causes the paper to appear too thick and jams the machine." He dropped the square in her hand, then knelt and reached up for the rubber thing, then the silver cylinder, and finally the greasy item was returned before he added all the bits and bobs.

The plastic panel went back on, and Rowan began shutting the doors to the copier. It whirled into life, and she gave an excited whoop. 

"Yes! Take that, bitch!" Rowan slammed a hand to her mouth mortified, but Tony was already laughing.

"Well, Miss Maddox. It was a pleasure working with you." He held out his hand, and she went to shake it only for him to pull away. "The rag, dear."

"Oh! Sorry." She quickly handed it over, fumbling her phone at the same time. 

He scowled at her iPhone. "Sweet crickets. Why are you packing that piece of junk?"

Rowan blushed hard, her whole face turning red. "It still works?" she whispered, not wanting to tell him it was what she could afford, nor admit she hadn't asked Shirley about the phone plan because she was afraid the woman would say something to Jensen that would make things worse.

He gave another inelegant snort. "We have a service plan, Miss Maddox, as I'm sure you're aware?"

"Only recently," she admitted. "But it's fine. It works. I don't need anything."

"Balderdash!" 

She blinked at him. Did he really just say that?

Tony shrugged. "Pepper wants me to cut down on my swearing. I've been experimenting with alternative forms of explicits. Not a good option?"

"It was definitely surprising," she smiled.

"Excellent! Now, where is…" He looked around and the past her and hollered, "Jensen!"

_Drat_ , Rowan flinched.

"Mr. Stark! I was just about to come looking for you. My assistant and I have quite the presentation lined up," Jensen said, throwing her an accusatory look as if Rowan had hijacked Tony on purpose.

Tony ignored him. "Jensen, why is Miss Maddox using that atrocious piece of outdated tech?"

"I couldn't hazard a guess, sir. She's been here long enough to know about employee benefits. If she didn't put in for a new phone, who was I to judge?"

Rowan wanted to scream and yank on her hair, out Jensen for the asshole he was, tell Mr. Stark that she’d never been told about a phone plan or any other of the employee perks offered - like the extended medical and dental plans - but she _needed_ this damn job and bit her tongue even as it sent pain shooting through her abdomen. 

“Hm, well get it done.” Tony tossed the rag on the copier and sauntered down the hall. “I’ll meet you in your office, Jensen once you’ve gotten Miss Maddox’s sorted.”

“Of course, sir.” Jensen waited for Tony to be out of earshot before he turned on Rowan and grabbed her arm. He squeezed her tricep hard making her wince. “What the hell is wrong with you asking Mr. Stark to help with the copier?”

His fingers dug in, and Rowan hissed, “I didn’t! He just took over!”

Jensen scowled. “You’d best watch yourself, Rowan. You’re skirting dangerously close to insubordination.” Then his grip softened, and his fingers stroked down the back of her arm. “I’d hate to have to let you go.”

She pulled her arm away. “And you’re skirting the border of sexual harassment.” 

He sneered at her. “Get back to work, and wash that shit off your face. This is a law office, not a garage.”

When he walked away, Rowan took a shaky breath and leaned against the wall to gather her composure. The man was such an asshole. 

Her arm throbbed and burned, and she knew she’d have fresh bruises. That was Jensen’s go-to move, and she was so tired of it. 

“Eighteen months,” she whispered. “Eighteen months.”

She just needed to get through the next year and a half; then she could get out from under Jensen’s thumb. 

The pain in her stomach flared a second time. She just hoped she lasted that long without punching asshat Jensen in the face.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Language, angst, Steve is a sneaky sneak
> 
> This update brought to you by a very generous anon through Coffee Updates! Thank you for the support, luv! (Sugar and Spice is not currently available for coffee updates - they left it dealers choice, so I dealt! lol)

* * *

For three days, Steve worked to hunt Rowan down. Anytime he wandered down to her desk, she either wasn't working or was off helping someone else. Every time he left a sticky note on her computer monitor saying he needed to speak with her. Every time she ignored him. 

Weren't they friends? Colleagues? The least she could do was have the professional courtesy to speak to him. It may have been about work. 

Finally, he'd had enough. A rather irate instant message later telling her he needed to see her _immediately_ , he had a response. 

R: _I'll be right there._

Impatiently waiting, he rose to stand at the window and stare out at the city. He should be working, but all he could think about was Rowan Maddox. 

A soft knock and she peeked around his open door. "You wanted to see me?"

"Nice of you to answer," he growled. "Shut the door."

She frowned but walked in and did as told. "Steve? What's wrong?"

"Why are you ignoring me?" He meant it to be curious, but it came out hard, cold, and hurt.

"I'm not!" 

Her surprise sounded genuine, and he turned to see her staring at him with wide eyes. "I've left notes on your desk for the last three days, saying I needed to speak with you."

"Steve, I swear, I didn't get them." She hurried closer. "Where did you leave them?"

"Sticky notes stuck to your monitor. You couldn't miss them." He frowned, wondering if they'd fallen off. 

She sighed heavily and leaned against the window. Her royal blue blouse and black pencil skirt looked lovely on her along with black pumps that had bows on the heel. She kept wearing stuff like that, he was going to develop a shoe fetish, but her exasperation and body language of defeat spoke volumes. 

"What is it?"

"McNally's been hovering lately. Jensen and I had words in the copy room a few days ago. I wouldn't put this past them."

"Jesus, Rowan! What the hell? Christ!" He stalked away from her only to stalk back and take her hands. "It's a damn good thing it was me and not one of the other partners. This kind of thing could have gotten you fired!" 

Her face paled. "I know." She pulled her hand away to press it to her stomach in a telling move.

He ignored it for now. "Rowan, sweetheart, please let me speak to Tony?"

She shook her head. "It will only get worse. You can't prove anything."

Her hand pressed harder against her stomach. "Is that an ulcer?" She dropped her hand but clenched her fist. It made him instantly angry that she kept putting herself last.  "Christ, Ro! You need a damn keeper."

She wrapped her fingers around his tie and jerked. Hard. "Don't call me Ro, paddle boy!"

A smirk fought for freedom, calming some of his ire. It surprised him how easily she could do that. "You didn't protest your need for a keeper."

"I hadn't gotten there yet," she huffed, but amusement danced in her eyes.

"Paddle boy?" he grinned.

She shrugged. "Boats, oars, water. If the floaties fit."

He chuckled and pulled his tie free from her fingers. "It's a shell, and I'm no boy."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Captain," she sassed and stuck her tongue out. 

Steve barked a laugh, maneuvering to cage her against the window. "Your distraction techniques aren't going to work, _Row-an_ ," he drawled. "Do you have an ulcer?"

She sighed and shrugged. "I don't know."

"You haven't gone to the doctor?" Why the fuck hadn't she gone to a doctor?

"No medical." 

He damn near punched the window. "Yes, babe, you do have medical. All Stark employees have medical coverage." Fucking Jensen.

She shook her head. "Mine was cancelled. I was sent a letter by the provider a few years ago."

Steve frowned. "That's not possible."

"They said I wasn't paying my premiums. That I'd lapsed too far behind, and I was no longer eligible." 

It didn't make sense. Her premiums would come off her check- "Son of a bitch!" Jensen had access to payroll and employee files.

He turned on his heel, ready to confront the asshat, only to have Rowan grab his arm. "Please, Steve! Don't make it worse!"

"Goddammit, Rowan! He's making your life a living hell, denying you the basic perks of your employment, and now he's made it impossible for you to see a doctor without a huge medical bill! No! I'm done letting him get away with this!"

"Don't you think I know that?" Her hoarse voice and teary eyes gave him pause, especially when she thrust the heel of her hand beneath her eye. "I can't _prove_ anything."

"There's a camera in the copy room!"

"And they'll see what? Jensen and I arguing. That’s nothing new."

He wanted to shake her for being stubborn. "But the payroll and your phone!"

"Computer error and forgetfulness." She clenched her fists. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Of course not!"

"Then you think I'm incompetent."

He sighed and turned toward her, retaking her hands. "You know I don't," he said softly.

"If there were a way out that would get him permanently off my back, I'd take it. If I could prove any of the offences against him, I'd go to Mr. Stark right now. _I can't!_ " Her breath hitched, but she didn't cry, nothing more than that initial tear. 

She was too fucking stubborn. 

He yanked her toward him and dragged her into a hug. "That fucking sucks, Ro." He grunted when she punched him in the ribs. " _Row-an_."

"Better," she snickered, settling into the hug.

"You still need a keeper. Look, I have a friend who is a doctor. Technically he's a neurosurgeon, but if you don't mind me tagging along, I'm sure he'll see you as a favour to me off the books."

"Steve, you don't need-" Her breath hitched, and the grip tightened when pain doubled her over in his arms.

She was pale and clammy, and he swept her off her feet to sit her on the sofa. Steve knelt beside her, his hand on her cheek. "Yeah, I fucking do. You're my friend, Rowan. I'm not going to let _this_ go. Please."

She sighed but nodded. "Thank you."

Steve pulled out his phone and texted Stephen before she changed her mind. When he finished, she was staring at him with a raised brow.

"Now, was scolding me the only reason I'm here or did you actually need something."

"Yeah, I need a favour."

"You're just full of requests today," she smirked. "Is it a case?"

"Well… it's because of Stark." She frowned but didn't say anything, so he plowed onward. "I'm required to bring a date to this gala on Tuesday night next week, and I don't have a date, but if I show up without one Tony said Pepper would be pissed, and Pepper can't be pissed. Not now."

She blinked twice before asking, "Why can't Pepper be pissed?"

He leaned forward. "She's pregnant," he whispered, "But they're not announcing just yet."

"Oh!" Rowan gasped and smiled, obviously delighted. "That's so great for them."

"So, will you come as my plus one?" 

Rowan looked pained. "Steve, it's already Thursday. I don't exactly have time to find a dress with work and school, and I sure as hell don't have anything gala worthy in my closet."

He shook his head. "If I can fix all that, would you be my date?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, sure, if it's that important, but how are you going to-"

"Leave it to me! I've got you covered." He pulled her to her feet and spun her in a circle that made her giggle. "You are a lifesaver!" His phone buzzed, and he dug it out. "Crap! Strange has time right now. We gotta go!"

"Go?" She resisted when he tugged her arm.

"The doctor. You need that looked at. C'mon." 

"But it's the middle of a workday!" she squeaked.

"We're taking a working lunch. I'll deal with Jensen," he growled. One way or another, he was dealing with this bullshit. He just had to keep reminding himself orange was not his colour.

***

Rowan perched on the table in Dr. Strange's office, a large, immaculate, fancy office with so many accolades on the walls they made her nervous. She remembered him from the crew, but he wasn't one to party. Too busy studying, she supposed.

He walked in with a smile, a distinguished silver fox with the grey at his temples, making her wonder if it was hereditary or the job that had given him the premature grey. 

"Well, Rogers, this is certainly a surprise. I didn't expect to see you again for at least a month." Decked out in mint green scrubs, he turned toward Rowan. "What can I help you with today?"

She glanced at Steve and rubbed her hands on her skirt, unsure of how to explain.

Steve had no problem spitting it out. "Rowan's got an ulcer, but there's a problem with her medical insurance. Until we get that sorted out at work, she's in a bit of a bind."

Stephen arched a brow. "And when did you go to medical school to diagnose an ulcer?"

"My mom had them. I know the signs," Steve murmured, scowling at the doctor.

"Hm," he huffed and pointed at the chairs across the room. "Go. Sit. Stay."

"But I-" Steve began to protest.

"You are neither her father, spouse, or legal guardian. She is now my patient. Go."

Rowan giggled and bit her lip. She liked the no-nonsense doctor.

Steve grumbled but shuffled out of the way and over to the chairs in front of the desk. 

"Now, Miss…?" Stephan asked, turning toward her.

"Maddox. Rowan Maddox. Please, call me Rowan." She held out her hand, and he shook it.

He smiled in a way that said he was assessing what was before him, a little clinical and a little… smug? "Before we begin, there is something I need to do."

Before Rowan could ask what, he pulled out his phone and took her picture. "Okay, what the hell?"

He smiled, all charm, and pulled the curtain around to give them privacy. "Forgive the impertinence, but the Captain speaks quite highly of you. The others want to know what you look like."

"He talks about me?" She didn't know whether to be flattered or embarrassed. 

He winked at her. "All the time. _Practically_ wouldn't shut up about you."

"You know I can hear you, right?" Steve muttered from the other side of the curtain.

Rowan snickered and exchanged a mischievous grin with the doctor. 

"Alright, let's begin. Family history of ulcers?" he asked.

"My maternal aunt had them. But she was a heavy smoker and drinker." She undid the back of her skirt, pulled her shirt out of it, slid back on the table, and laid down. 

"Under a lot of stress? Taking any medications?" 

"Stress?" She barked a laugh. "Yes, considerable stress. And some ibuprofen for headaches."

"How much ibuprofen is some?" he asked, giving her a side-eye. She blushed, and he hummed in disapproval. "No more. If you're having headaches, there may be an underlying cause."

"It's just stress, and school, four hours of sleep a night, and too much coffee," she sighed.

"If you know that's the cause, why are you still suffering?"

She embarrassed herself when the tears started. Just enough to leak down her temples, but he'd poked at the door she'd shut all her stress behind and cracked it open. "Because I'm so close to being done. I just need another year and a half."

"In a year and a half, this could be something much worse," he scolded quietly but took her hand in his. "Something's gotta give, Rowan." 

She nodded and knuckled the tears from her temples. He pulled the stethoscope from his pocket and listened to her belly. Then he was gently palpitating her midsection before lightly tapping. The discomfort had been minimal until he did that. 

"Holy fuck!" she barked, jerking under his hand. 

"Ah, there it is."

Rowan glared at him. "You could have asked."

"I've got to get my kicks in somehow," Stephen chuckled and helped her sit up. "As things stand, I'm inclined to agree with your cohort over there. You've got all the signs and symptoms of a peptic ulcer."

Rowan groaned and set her head in her hands. "Now what? And how much is it going to cost?"

"Normally, I'd run you through some tests to see if your ulcer also has Helicobacter pylori."

She blinked at him and stood to right her clothing. "English?"

He chuckled, pushed the curtain back, and headed for his desk. "It's a type of infection and requires antibiotics, but as you've admitted to overdoing NSAIDS," he held up his hand before she could ask, "non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs - your ibuprofen - I think we can safely assume that's the cause. I'll prescribe you a PPI, proton pump inhibitor, that will reduce your stomach acid and protect the lining of your stomach so that ulcer can heal."

"Dietary restrictions?" Steve asked from a few feet away.

"No alcohol or smoking. The rest is dependent on you, Rowan. Avoid what upsets it. It would be good to de-stress, take time for yourself, and heal. If, after your prescription runs out you're still not feeling well, I insist you come back and see me. Steve has my number." He returned and gave her a written prescription.

She held out her hand. "Thank you, Dr. Strange." 

He took it and held it between his. "My friends call me Stephen."

"Captain cute over there doesn't try and shorten it to Steph?" She nudged her chin toward the hovering Steve.

Stephen chuckled. "No, he certainly doesn't. But his head would have found my fist if he'd tried."

She burst out laughing. 

"Okay, Row-an, Steve huffed. "Let's hit the pharmacy."

"He's so bossy," she smirked at Stephen. 

"He comes by the moniker of "Captain" quite naturally."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Har har. You're both hilarious."

He held out his hand, and Rowan took it, hitching her purse to her shoulder. "It was nice meeting you, Stephen."

"And you, Miss Maddox. This has been the highlight of my day." 

The devious smile on his face arched her brow, but Rowan didn't comment, just let Steve drag her out the door. They didn't even make it down the hallway before Steve's phone began buzzing. He winced, sighed, and ignored it.

"Don't you want to check that?" she asked.

"No."

"What if it's work?"

"It's not," he grumbled, continuing to ignore the erratic buzzing.

"What if you're wrong?"

He sighed and pressed the down button for the elevator. "It's my WhatsApp."

She frowned. "Okay?"

"Group chat. I can guarantee that the picture Stephen took of you has now been added."

"So," she leaned against the wall and smirked at him, "you talk about me to your friends?"

He glanced her way. Was that a blush on his cheeks? Oh, it was!

He rubbed the back of his neck, adorably disconcerted. "Sam's fault. Or, well, I guess Pietro, but that's only because of Wanda."

"Wanda?" 

"And your dress," Steve murmured.

The elevator opened as the name and the admission connected. Steve stepped on, but Rowan could only stare in mouth gaping awe.

"Rowan?" He slapped his hand to the doors to keep them from closing. 

Rowan was floored. "House of Witch. You know Wanda, the creator of House of Witch designs?"

"Yeah, she's Pietro's sister and the doc's girl." He frowned when she didn't step into the elevator and finally took her by the elbow to tug her stumbling forward.

Rowan, unable to fully comprehend that he _knew_ Wanda Maximoff, wrapped her hands around his lapels and dragged him down until they were nose to nose. "House of Witch is my Holy Grail, Steven Rogers. You don't toy with a woman's Holy Grail. I would commit _serious_ felonies to have the funds to shop House of Witch. You have no idea."

He grinned. "So, I take it you liked the last dress?"

She didn't want to tell him how she occasionally stood in front of the garment bag she'd put it in and gently caressed the lace. Nor that she hadn't worn it again after that first day because she was saving it for graduation.

"Like is a wholly inadequate word," she admitted.

He chuckled and caught her around the waist when the elevator jolted. "Are you busy on Saturday?"

She frowned at the strange segue. "Homework. Grunt work for Jensen. The norm."

"I'll give you until four. Then meet me outside your place."

"Why?" she asked suspiciously. 

"It's a surprise."

"Rogers," she warned.

"Maddox," he smirked.

"You're a real pain in my ass," she grumbled.

"Well, if it keeps the pain out of your stomach, I'll happily be a pain in your ass."

She rolled her eyes and pushed away to stride off the elevator. It was getting much too easy and comfortable being in his arms. He'd picked her up in his office as if she'd weighed nothing, and hadn't even budged when she'd fallen into him. But she had neither the time nor the energy to put into a relationship. 

Then her phone was ringing in her purse. She dug it out while on the way to the pharmacy on the hospital’s main floor.

The shiny new iPhone was much nicer than her old one, but the number on the front made her flinch. "Give me a minute, okay?" she said to Steve, walking away from him.

He nodded and tucked his hands in his pockets.

***

He frowned after Rowan, having seen the name on her phone. He'd thought maybe that asshole Jensen was after her again but it read Balmoral Manor. He knew Balmoral Manor or one place by that name and - unable to resist - did a quick google search. 

There was only one listing. A retirement and nursing home facility. An expensive one. 

Steve watched Rowan from behind his lashes, attempting to appear engrossed in his phone while she stood just out of earshot, or so she thought. He'd always had better than average hearing.

"I know I'm behind, they cut my hours at work. Look, I'm doing everything I can." She paused to listen. "No, I don't want to look into transferring her to another facility! I'll get you your damn money by Friday!"

By the time she hung up, the stress was clearly getting to her as she had pressed a hand to her stomach again.

"Everything okay?"

She gasped and doubled over, a hand fisted against her abdomen. 

He walked swiftly toward her. "I'm gonna take that as a no. C'mon. We'll fill that script and take a walk."

She shook her head. "I'm fine, Steve. I need to get back to work."

"No. You need to take care of yourself." He went to take her elbow and almost growled when she yanked herself away. 

"I'm fine! Stop acting like a mother hen!" she snapped.

He very swiftly backed her into the wall. "When you stop resisting help from every angle, I will stop forcing it on you!"

Rowan squeezed her eyes tightly shut, as if holding back the tears that were swimming there, gave a shuddering exhale, lifted her hand to his chest, and dropped her forehead to his tie. "Sorry," she whispered.

He did what he wanted to do for days and tugged her ponytail. "We're friends, Rowan. Least, I thought we were."

"Don't lay on the guilt, Steve," she sighed and lifted her head. The utter exhaustion on her left him speechless. "You want to know the rest of my sob story? Fine. Let me get my drugs and a bottle of water, and I'll tell you."

She pushed past him and continued toward the pharmacy. It took less than twenty minutes to have it filled, but they spent those twenty minutes in uncomfortable silence, made even more painful when it came to light Stephen had ordered the pills to be processed through his plan to reduce Rowan's cost to near nothing.

After, Steve led her outside and to the quiet garden where patients and their families were invited to roam at their leisure. He drew her down to a stone bench, cracked the top of her water and watched her toss back her first dose of pills.

"Spill," he murmured once she finished.

She rubbed the heel of her hand on her forehead. "When I told you about my parents, I told you about my aunt coming to stay with me until I turned eighteen. Aunt Peggy is amazing. Tough, strong, so freaking smart. She kept me from going crazy that first year after they died. I adored her before that, but after it was just… so much more. She's the last link to my past." Rowan leaned back and tilted her face to the sun. "We're close, or we were. She was everything I wanted to be when I grew up. A few years ago she called me. She'd been diagnosed with Alzheimer's, an aggressive form of the disease."

"Oh, Rowan." He could see how difficult it was for her. How painful. Steve shifted closer, his arm over the back of the bench, and pulled her into his side. "I'm so sorry."

"For a while, it was fine. I moved in with her, helped out, made sure she got her meds and was looked after, but I couldn't always be there. I had to work. There was an accident, a fire, and she had an episode where she didn't know who I was. Her doctor told me she was only going to get worse, so I researched all the facilities in the city and put her in the best I could find. I visit a couple of times a month, but she doesn't know me anymore."

The fight seemed to leave her a little bit at a time with every word she spoke until the tears finally began to drop down her face. 

"I was doing fine until my hours were cut. Now, I'm behind on everything. I'm either late with my school payments or with the payment for her care. And the worst of it is that she's been diagnosed with lung cancer. She's terminal. The only thing she knows now is that facility and those people. She's got months left at most, but because I've missed _one_ payment by more than a week, they want to downgrade her to a state-run facility. Doing that would kill her."

"Jesus." He rubbed a hand over his mouth. "No wonder you have an ulcer."

She chuckled weakly and laid her head on his chest. "Welcome to my fucked up life. I keep thinking I'll eventually catch a break, but I think this all might just break me."

"Not gonna happen. You're stronger than you look." So much stronger. "How much do you need?"

She sighed and shook her head. "Steve, I'm not taking your money."

As she couldn't see him, he rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Even if I loan it to you? You can pay it back with interest if you want after you finish school."

"I've got it figured out. I can pick up a part-time job as a barista."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. She worked, went to school, hardly slept, barely ate if her weight was anything to go by, and already had an ulcer thanks to all the stress she was under. 

It was unacceptable. "No."

She drew back and scowled at him. "What the hell do you mean, no?"

"Rowan," he sighed. "You already have an ulcer. You're going to run yourself into the ground and not be able to take care of anyone if you don't stop."

"And how do I stop, Steve? What do I cut out? My aunt, who's the only family I have left? Or the career I've worked so damn hard for? Or maybe I should quit my job because working for Jensen is a complete fucking nightmare? You tell me what I should do because, quite honestly, I don't want to make any of these damn decisions anymore!"

He hated seeing her so unhappy, holding on by a thread, and dragged her into a tight hug. "I'm really, really sorry, Rowan, I am. But I can't watch you hurt yourself to make it all work out."

"I don't know what to do," she admitted. "I love aunt Peggy. I can't let her go somewhere where they treat her like garbage, but I put off school and then had to pause in the middle when she got sick. I'm going to lose my spot if I keep-" Her voice broke on a soft sob.

"Oh, baby," he murmured, stroking her back. "You won't lose your spot. Fury likes you and wants to see you succeed."

She tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let her. "I'm ruining your suit."

"I don't give a fuck," he grumbled.

"It's Armani. You don’t snot cry on Armani."

He released her but only to cup her face. "Rowan, I don't give a shit about my suit. I care about you. Now, this is what's going to happen." She narrowed her eyes, but he pressed his thumb to her lips before she could snarl at him. "I'm going to lend you money. Lend, Rowan. You can pay me back in the future with interest if that's what you want, but I'm going to help you with your aunt. One less thing to stress over."

"Steve…" she sighed, but he could see her waffling. 

"I'm paying for two months."

"Steve!" she gasped

"Three."

"Are you crazy?"

"Keep it up, and I'll pay four," he smirked.

"One," she huffed.

"Two, just until we get this Jensen mess straightened out, and give that ulcer time to heal up."

She scoffed at him. "You think anything with Jensen will change in two months?"

"If I have anything to say about it," he grumbled.

She returned her head to his chest. "You're a good guy, Steve."

"Why is Jensen such a prick to you?"

"Unlike some people, he doesn't take rejection well."

He didn't comment but clenched his jaw, anger slowly becoming rage. Jensen was really pissing him off. Rowan, though, she pulled at him stronger than ever. He couldn’t believe all she was going through, all she’d been through, and yet, still, here she was standing firm, fighting, taking another step forward day by day. He was ridiculously proud of her. 

She sighed softly. “Now that I’ve ruined your suit, I really should get back to work. Eventually, I’ll have to pay you back.”

Steve was never going to accept her money, but she didn’t need to know that yet. “If you’re feeling up to it. You should probably just take the day.”

“Can’t. My hours are crap enough as it is.”

“Well, that’s something I can fix, so you’re not running yourself ragged with another job. I’ve two cases on the books. You’ll now be helping me with both. No arguments, Rowan. You need the hours; I need to make sure you’re not killing yourself.”

She looked up at him. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I can," he grinned. "And you really do need a keeper." 

He laughed when she stuck her tongue out at him.

  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Language, angst, Steve is a sneaky sneak, Bucky is an ass but it's temporary 
> 
> A/N: I know, I know. I said I wasn’t posting anything until the New Year, but this just kind of happened. Happy reading!

* * *

"Before we head back," Steve caught her arm as she headed for the sidewalk, "let's take care of your aunt."

"Now?" she gasped. "But…"

He just looked at her as he hailed a cab. "I'm not letting you talk me out of it. And I'm not letting one more day go by where you fret over this."

"Fret? What am I, a schoolmarm from eighteen twelve?"

Steve snickered, happy to see her sass back in full force. "No, just stubborn as a mule."

She snorted but let him encourage her into a cab. "Hello, kettle calling pot."

He laughed as he slid in after her and continued to chuckle even when she gave their destination to the cab driver. "You and that mouth."

"I think you like the fact I snap back. You're too used to everyone fawning over mister All-American golden boy."

"I don't think you'd ever fawn over me, would you, Rowan?" he asked, turning toward her while snaking an arm over the cab's back seat. "You're gonna make me work for every inch you'll give me."

Her knees nudged his as she turned and curled her fingers around his tie. "You bet your ass," she purred, whiskey warm eyes twinkling with delight.

"You're terrible."

She yanked his tie. "You deserve it."

"Why do you do that?" he chuckled.

"What?"

A cute little wrinkle formed on her nose with her confusion. "Tug my tie. You do it all the time."

She let go like it burned her. "Sorry. They're just like handles. It's something I've always wanted to do. Plus, you're bossy. Helps me get my point across when you're being Captain McBossypants."

Steve laughed, sitting back to clutch his chest. "I suppose you have a point. But let's not do that in front of other people."

A smirk curled her lips, ruby red and slick with gloss. "Yes, sir."

Desire shot through him hard and fast. Steve shifted toward her again, arm along her shoulders. "Now, Sugar. You gettin' sweet on me?"

"Rogers, you should know by now I'm all spice."

"Cinnamon and sugar," he smirked, watching laughter glow in her eyes.

She snorted, but her fingers returned to his tie, light and stroking this time, adjusting his tie pin before moving on to fluff his pocket square. "You can't go five minutes without flirting, can you?"

When she looked up, Steve gently cupped her cheek and ran his thumb beneath her eye. Her crying jag had smeared her makeup, but she pulled some Kleenex from her purse, wet it with the bottle of water, and removed the worst of the damage, but there was a tiny smudge of mascara he worked at gently with his thumb. 

It amazed him how little makeup she wore, wiping off only blush, mascara, and a light skiff of eyeshadow. He didn't know what kind of miracle lipstick she had on, but the red was as bright and vibrant after wrapping her lips around the water bottle as before.

"You make it easy," he murmured, stroking her cheek. "If it bothers you, I can cut back. Try to at least."

"It's okay. I don't mind." She sank her teeth into her bottom lip. 

Steve dragged his thumb down to her mouth and tugged her lip free. "Good."

"You're just all kinds of trouble," she murmured, pink in her cheeks. 

He smirked, but let his eyes roam her face, landing on long, caramel toned eyelashes, the gentle slope of her nose, and the deep dip of her cupid's bow. "Do you take after your mom or your dad?"

She blinked, not expecting that question. "Dad, I guess. Why?"

"Just wondering." Wondering which side of her family had blessed her with that stunning face.

She turned suddenly, as if unsure of him, but only enough to sit back and lean her head on his shoulder. "I didn't mean to come off ungrateful. This means a lot to me, Steve. I'm just sorry for the hit it will give your pocketbook."

"It can handle it," he assured her. She could take a serious run at his bank account and hardly make a dent. 

They rode in comfortable silence the rest of the way, Steve with his arm around her shoulders and the scent of citrus and lemons from her hair enchanting his nose. When the cab arrived, he had his wallet out, and the appropriate bills shoved through the slot before she could dig in her purse.

Rowan glared at him, but Steve only laughed and slipped from the car, his hand out to assist her. Rowan took it begrudgingly and rose to stand with him. 

"You think you're so smooth, " she muttered.

"I am smooth," he snickered. "And humble, charming, handsome…"

She barked a little laugh. "Handsome? Oh, I don't think so."

"Laugh it up, woman.  I know you think I'm pretty," he smirked.

"You just keep fooling yourself about that, Rogers," she scoffed and rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were pink, and her eyes sparkled when she grinned at him and headed inside.

The place was immaculate, clean and in good repair. Rowan headed for the front desk.

"Ms. Maddox! We didn't expect to see you so soon," the man at the desk said. With his sharp eyes and too smug smile, he came across creepy as fuck.

Steve instantly disliked him and stepped to Rowan's side, left hand landing on her low back as he slipped into his professional persona. "Steve Rogers." He held out his hand. "I'm Miss Maddox's attorney." Rowan's muscles tightened under his fingers, but she didn't contradict him.

"A-attorney?"

"Yes. Attorney. She's retained me to oversee the legal and financial aspects of her aunt's estate." Steve reached into his breast pocket when it was clear the receptionist wasn't going to shake his hand and pulled out one of the black business cards that proclaimed him a partner of Stark, Potts, and Rhodes, and laid it on the counter. "Any further questions regarding the financial aspects of her aunt's care are to be directed to me, not my client." 

Rowan stiffened even further but again didn't contradict him. He rubbed his thumb over the ridge of her spine in a soothing gesture, noting how slim she was. It wasn't acceptable, and he made a mental note to make sure and feed her every time they worked together on his upcoming cases.

The receptionist blinked twice at his card and swallowed thickly before he turned to Rowan and frowned. "Am I too assume you've come into some sort of wealth in the last thirty minutes, Ms. Maddox?"

She went ramrod stiff, inhaled sharply to respond, but Steve cut her off with a soft, hard, "Excuse me?"

The man cringed back when he stepped into the desk and leaned over it. "That is none of your business. Invade my client's personal life again and see how fast I slap this place with a lawsuit. If you can't complete the job requested of you, you'd better get the owner out here, Wendel," he said, voice dark but low, taking note of the man's name tag.

“There… there will be paperwork,” Wendel muttered, officially cowed. 

“Miss Maddox and I will be visiting her aunt. I’ll pick it up on the way out.” Steve collected Rowan’s elbow and stepped back, allowing her to lead the way. 

They were well past reception, through a set of sliding doors, and down a deserted hallway before she rounded on him, planting her palm in the center of his chest. He flinched, prepared for harsh words and anger at his high handedness. 

Instead, she bowed her head and sighed. “I should be so pissed at you right now, but I’m honestly just relieved.”

Her fingers curled around his tie, and her forehead landed on his chest. Steve took her by the shoulders and lightly rubbed her arms. “I’m happy to help.”

“You’re still an overbearing ass.”

Steve chuckled. “I’m aware.”

She lifted her head and looked up at him with soft eyes. The dark circles were still there beneath them, but the worry he’d seen earlier was fading. He wanted to cup her cheek, assure her that everything would be alright, and kiss those lush lips, but she’d already given him an inch, he wasn’t dumb enough to push for a mile and tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. 

“Let’s go visit your aunt,” he murmured, feeling ten feet tall now that she’d let him take care of her a little. 

With a gentle tug of his tie, she turned, took his hand in hers and led him down the hall into a large room full of comfy chairs and couches where Rowan waved at a woman in white.

"Rowan!" the brunette smiled. "We weren't expecting you till Sunday."

"Patty. Change of plans. How's Aunt Peggy today?" she asked, and Steve could hear the hope in her voice.

Patty's smile slipped. "Honey…"

Rowan's shoulders slumped. "I know. Is she in her room?"

"Yeah, hun." Patty touched her shoulder. "Just… don't expect too much."

Rowan's hand tightened in his. "I won't."

After the odd exchange, she led him through the bright sunshine and open, two-story visiting area, down another hall decorated with pretty paintings and floral bouquets to a wooden door numbered one-three-five left slightly ajar.

She took a deep breath and knocked before striding into the room, Steve following when she didn't release his hand. 

In a chair by the window sat a woman whose dark brown hair was heavily threaded with grey. There were lines around her eyes and mouth, but even with the signs of age and the cancer slowly taking its toll, she retained a spark of youth. 

Rowan released his hand and moved to Peggy's side, where she sat gracefully on a stool. "Hi, Aunt Peggy. How are you feeling?"

"Good, good, dear. It's nice you came to see me, Sylvia."

"I was in the neighbourhood." If he hadn't been watching so closely, Steve never would have seen Rowan tremble. "Is there anything you need?"

She reached out and patted Rowan's knee. "You should be getting ready for your date."

"Aunt Peggy, I'm Rowan. Sylvia was my mom." Rowan looked close to tears and clenched her fists against her stomach.

Peggy frowned, her confusion evident. "No… I… no…"

Steve moved closer when Rowan bit her lip to hold back the glitter of tears. Peggy looked up at him and gasped. "Daniel?"

He glanced at Rowan for help. She was bleach white and staring at him in shock. 

"Oh, Daniel!" Peggy's surprisingly strong hand grabbed his arm. "You're here! You're alive?"

Not knowing what to do when Rowan appeared mute, he crouched beside Peggy and forced a smile. "Yeah. Yeah, Pegs. I'm here."

Her hand landed on his check and tears cascaded down hers. "Oh, Daniel! They said you died overseas, but I never gave up hope."

He could see her agitation growing and patted her hand soothingly. "Of course, you didn't. And I had to come back to my best girl."

Then, as if a switch flicked in her brain, she was looking at him without any recognition at all. "Who are you?" She shot a fearful look at Rowan. "Who are you people? Get out of my room! Nurse! Nurse!"

Rowan was up and gone in a shot. Steve rose a little slower. "Sorry to disturb you, ma'am. We're going now." 

He found Rowan huddled in a small alcove near a window, shaking like a leaf and breathing heavily into her hands. "Sugar, no." She didn't even resist him when he gathered her to his chest.

"I should be used to it by now. She often calls me Sylvia. She's never called anyone Daniel," Rowan whispered, tucked so hard against him, Steve wondered if she was trying to burrow under his skin.

"Who's Daniel?"

"Her fiance."

Steve inhaled sharply. "What?"

Rowan sighed and wiggled a little until she could wrap her arms around his waist. "You might have noticed Aunt Peggy is English."

"Yeah." He rubbed his chin on her crown.

"So was my mom, but her accent mellowed over the years she lived in America. Then Peggy went back to England for school and eventually worked for British intelligence before relocating to America, where she met Daniel before I was born. All I know is he went on a mission and never came home. KIA, they called it."

"Damn, that's rough," he murmured, rubbing her back.

"Peggy didn't talk about him very much, but she always said he was the best guy. Strong. Smart. Loyal. She loved him with everything she had, and when he didn't come home, it broke something is inside her. After, she never married, threw herself into her job, until, well, me."

"You know, if she was former intelligence, worked for a government agency, she should have a pretty decent health plan covering a lot of this, plus retirement package, and a few other things helping out financially."

"Again, I'm not an idiot, Steve. I made all the calls, check with everyone I could think of. She retired early, and while she has certain benefits, they cover some doctor's bills and medications, and not much else."

"Can I check into those things again for you?"

She lifted her head; eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why?"

"Because I have all these letters after my name and belong to this crazy big law office. Sometimes that gets me answers and through doors that may have been denied to you."

"Fine," Rowan sighed. "If you want to go through it all again, go ahead."

"Thanks, I will," he smirked.

"McBossypants," she grumbled, a smile fighting for freedom.

He shrugged and wiped the tears from her face. "I'm sorry for how hard this is."

"I used to come every day, even if it was just for a few minutes, or to sit and study while she napped. Now." She closed her eyes against fresh tears. "It's so _damn_ hard."

Unable to help himself, he tangled his fingers in her ponytail and gave it a gentle tug. "You're not doing this alone anymore, Rowan. I'm here for you."

"I know, Steve," she whispered, her lashes damp and eyes darkened to aged whiskey. "You're a good man." She pressed up on her toes and kissed his cheek. "Thank you for this."

He hoped she couldn't feel the rapid pounding of his heart as he wiped away the last tear to escape and traced his thumb over her jaw. "Come on. I'll buy you a pita on the way back to the office, and you can eat while I get you up to date on the cases I'm working."

"That sounds good, but I'm buying."

"You should know by now, Miss Maddox, that the attorney always buys."

He was jerked down by his tie, so they were nose to nose. "Rogers, you just freed up my cash flow for the next two months. I'm buying the damn pitas."

The determination on her face made him chuckle as he rescued his tie from her clutches. "Yes, ma'am."

***

Rowan closed the drawer in her desk, her purse returned to it after her jaunt out with Steve, and just got it locked before a stack of files landed on her desk, causing Rowan to jump. "What the hell, Stan?"

His smug smirk irked her. "Jensen wants these filed by the end of the day."

"Guess you'd best get on that then," she smiled sweetly, collecting her legal pads, tablet, and phone before walking away.

"Hey! He wants you to do it!" 

She turned and shrugged. "Sorry! I'm on a case with Mr. Rogers now. The partners take precedence."

His jaw dropped, but Rowan kept walking. She'd pay for that later she was sure, but for now, it felt so good! Laughing softly to herself, she stepped onto the elevator only to hear, "Hold the door!"

Rowan stuck her knuckle on the open button and smiled at the tall brunette when he darted through them. 

"Thanks, dollface." Then he did a double-take and the smile that spread turned just a hint dangerous. 

Rowan narrowed her eyes, recognizing his face. "Anytime, Sarge."

He blinked once, but the smile didn't shift as she pressed the button for Steve's floor. 

"Ms. Maddox, what a small world," he murmured.

She rolled her eyes. "I see you got the WhatsApp."

He chuckled and shifted closer, the move one of a born flirt. Rowan shifted away. "Stevie tell you about that?"

"I was there when his pocket began vibrating."

Barnes belted a laugh and leaned against the wall. "He said you were full of sass."

She ignored that, uncertain if it was a compliment or an insult. "Something we can help you with, Officer?"

"It's Detective, now." He tapped the shiny badge on his belt.

Genuinely happy for him, Rowan smiled. "Congratulations, Detective. That's quite an accomplishment."

He blinked again, the only sign she'd surprised him. "Thanks."

The doors opened, and he waited for her to exit before following. "Just need to check a thing with Steve, then I'll be on my way."

"Well, I'm sure you know where his office is." She nodded her goodbye and went to speak with Steve's secretary as she knew Steve was waiting for a few more forms from the nursing home, as well as documents from a deposition. 

After five minutes of idle chatter with no sign of Barnes leaving, Rowan sighed and headed for Steve's office where her yet to be eaten lunch was waiting.

She knocked and entered after a shouted, "Come in!"

"I don't care what some semi-retired Lieutenant told you, Bucky! No, you can't accidentally on purpose use someone's allergies against them!"

Rowan froze in the doorway. "Should I come back?"

Both men turned toward her, Bucky looking highly entertained while Steve appeared ready to tear out his hair.

"It's fine, Rowan. The Detective is an asshole," Steve grumbled.

Rowan smirked and shut the door with her foot. "I'm glad to know I'm not the only one who puts that look on your face."

"Yeah? You make my pal Stevie wanna tear out his hair, dollface?"

"I try to. At least once per day," she snickered.

Steve shook his head, but his eyes twinkled. "Don't start, Ro."

She shot him a glare. "Don't make me, Captain."

Barnes chuckled. "She is sassy. I like her."

Rowan rolled her eyes. "Here. Paperwork from Balmoral, and Mr. Wilson's notes from the deposition."

A cold shock seemed to run through her as the easy-going way of Detective Barnes shifted into something harsher. Harder. Deadlier. 

"Steven?"

Rowan snapped upright and looked from Steve to Barnes to the papers the detective was glaring at and back to Steve, who was staring at her with eyes full of apology.

"Rowan, would you please get Detective Barnes a coffee to go? Black, three sugar, and one sweet and light for me."

She blinked twice before finding her voice. "Sure… uh, no problem." Turning on her heels, she escaped the room as fast as possible.

***

Steve turned to face Bucky and crossed his arms. "Don't you _ever_ pull that shit in my office again."

Bucky glared at him and pointed at the papers on his desk. "What _the fuck_ is that? Didn't I tell you to watch your ass? Didn't I say that she might be after your money? What the fuck are these?"

"You're not my keeper, Buck," Steve snarled.

"You need a keeper! Why are you paying for a nursing home when you haven't any family that needs one?"

He flinched at that before straightening. "It's not your business, but I'm helping out a friend."

"With what? A mortgage payment? Fuck, Steve! What the hell is this?"

Steve picked the papers up and turned them over. "They don't concern you, Bucky."

"Steve! She's already got her hooks in you! What the hell are you doing?"

"You don't get to ask those questions! What I do and who with isn't your concern!"

"Tell him."

Steve's head snapped around to find a teary-eyed, pale and trembling Rowan, hand shoved against her stomach, standing in his doorway. "Rowan, it's none of his business."

"I know." Her voice was so cold. "But he thinks I'm a gold-digging whore. I'd rather not have him bad mouth me to the rest of your crew because he can't tell his ass from his ear." She turned around and shut the door, leaving them staring after her. 

"Jesus," Bucky mumbled. 

Steve didn't think, just socked him in the jaw. "You're such an asshole!" he snapped, shaking out his hand.

Bucky stumbled backward, holding his face. "Yeah, probably. Want to tell me what the fuck is going on?"

But Steve wasn't done. "You're so fucking invasive at times! You treat everyone you meet like they're a suspect waiting to commit a crime, but Rowan hasn't done anything wrong except being too damn proud and too stubborn to ask for help. Well, I stopped asking and just _helped_! We were with Strange because she's got an ulcer from struggling to pay for school, lodging, and her terminally ill aunt, who helped raise her after her parents died. The asshole head of paralegal is making her life hell, and then cut her hours to next to nothing because she refused to date him. So instead of watching her run herself into the ground, I took her to the doctor when I found out her medical is screwed up, and I offered to pay for two months of her aunt's nursing care when the home threatened her _in front of me_ that they were going to downgrade Peggy to a state facility. And you can bet your ass she protested my assistance. Rowan is the nicest, proudest, most loyal person I've _ever_ met, and you just shat all over her! Goddammit, Bucky!"

His best friend sat down hard in Steve's chair. "Jesus. Shit, Steve. I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"No, you didn't, now you do. Get out of my office. I've got to go find Rowan and convince her to eat something because I'm pretty sure she hasn't eaten much in the last week thanks to stretching her budget too thin." He headed for the door without waiting on Bucky.

"Steve." He paused but didn't look back. "Tell her I'm sorry."

Steve gave a sharp nod, then cast a glance a Deborah, who mouthed the words conference room one. The woman was a godsend who wouldn't say a word about what she'd just witnessed. Deborah was as loyal as they came and never gossiped around the water cooler no matter what she overheard.

He found Rowan down the hall with her back to the door, hidden all but the top of her head by the big chairs in the conference room.

Steve shut the door and made his way around to crouch before her. Her skin was too pale, her mouth bitten and raw, but her eyes were dry, and so was her face. "He's gone."

"Sorry."

His brow arched sharply. "Why?"

"I seem to cause you trouble," she smiled wanly.

"Rowan." He cupped her face. "You're not trouble, and I wouldn't care if you were. I want to help you. I want to watch you succeed. Bucky is an asshole who sometimes doesn't think before he speaks. He's a cop, and some of the things he's seen have made him cynical. But he's a good guy underneath all that gruff." 

"He protects you." She sat with her shoulders slumped. "Cap and Sarge, the inseparable duo. Am I your Yoko?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, not much could breakup that band. He got told some stuff, and he's sorry for how he reacted. He's a good guy, just got in the habit of protecting me when my ma died. He's had my back for a long time."

"Your mom's gone too?" she asked, sounding small and fragile.

"When I was just outta high school. Bucky's family took me in, kept me going."

Her hand landed on his arm, offering comfort with a simple touch. "I didn't know. The other night you said she'd be pissed at you for letting me ride the train. I thought…"

He brushed her hair back, fingers light on her face. "I know. Sometimes the things she taught me are so deeply ingrained they come out like that. A gentleman would never let a lady take the train if he could help it. A gentleman holds a lady's door. A gentleman pays for dinner. A gentleman knows better than to think a moment of weakness means a woman is weak." He ran his thumb over her lower lip before rising and pulling Rowan up with him. "She said it was her job to teach me because I didn't have a dad to give me those lessons."

"You didn't?" Her eyes were wide and innocent, the colour coming back to her face.

He shook his head. "He was some asshole loser that ran out on us when I was little. We were notified of his death a few years later, but it didn't mean much to either of us. We were gettin' on fine without him before he left."

Now that she looked better, he led her to the door and back to his office, where he shot Deborah a wink and led Rowan to the couch where their food waited. "Eat. I'll give you the rundown on my cases, then we can get to work."

She smiled and settled, the fragility of her earlier state smoothing out with the strength he knew she possessed. 

Steve sighed in relief and got to work.

**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Language, angst, Steve is a sneaky sneak, smexy fun
> 
> A/N: This story is kicking my butt. It’s got a hold on my brain and won’t let me go! Lol! Enjoy another surprise update!

* * *

Saturday afternoon rolled around without any more hitches in Rowan's week. The pills from Dr. Strange were working wonders, she spent the rest of Thursday and all day Friday in Steve's office away from Jensen and McNally, and when she'd walked out of class Friday night, still high on her mock trial win, Steve was waiting, grin smug and door open.

Rowan had rolled her eyes but didn't protest, too pumped from a positive end to the week to scold him for coming to get her. 

But spending all that time with him had one downside. Her raging crush was back in full force. 

She didn't have the time for heart-stopping, panty-dropping, sweet and sexy moments with Steve when he carried her backpack and walked her to the door only to stand there gazing down at her like he would kiss her if she gave him the slightest encouragement. 

Did she want him to kiss her? _Hell yes_. Could she afford it when they were working so closely together, and with him now paying for Peggy's care? No.

So she forced herself to box those feelings away and not think about his stupidly long eyelashes, or the way he clutched his ridiculously large pec when he laughed, or how deep his voice got when he was on the phone and not getting his way. 

The man had the "Command Voice" down pat. 

Rowan refused to acknowledge how many pairs of underwear she'd ruined listening to that voice.

But it was now four in the afternoon on Saturday, and she stalked out the door in jeans and ballet flats, wearing a light blue t-shirt and thin leather coat with her hair clipped up. Steve hadn't said where they were going or how they were finding her a gala gown with only three days left, so she kept her outfit casual but classy, and threw a pair of strappy heels in her purse.

He was waiting, leaning against his car, and Rowan stomped heavily on the flutter in her chest that screamed _date_ before she did something stupid like giggle because the cute rowing Captain was taking her out.

 _Cute_? Sexy as fuck was more like it.

He grinned when he saw her and pushed off the car. She'd seen him dressed for the office, for court, and on a casual morning out. His outfit today wasn't any of those, but the tight denim on thick thighs and blue button-down that matched his eyes made her salivate. Add in the tousled hair and aviator style jacket, and Rowan was moments away from drooling.

"Rowan. You ready for this?" 

He smiled like a golden retriever puppy, and Rowan had the distinct feeling she was totally screwed. It would only be a matter of time before she gave in, yanked him down by the tie, and tasted that plump lower lip for herself.

But that day wasn't today.

"I'd be more ready if I knew where we are going," she managed to say, smiling her thanks when she slid into his car. 

He jogged around the front and slipped into the driver's seat with a wicked chuckle. "You'll see."

He drove through back streets and kept up a steady, idle chatter, asking about school work, and if she got her grunt work done for Jensen. 

As he'd been with her all day the day before, he knew she'd spent a couple of hours writing notes and running down information for the idiot, but it was cute that he seemed nervous. It helped settle her nerves.

When they pulled up at the back of a building thirty minutes later, Rowan frowned for it certainly wasn't any shopping center she was familiar with.

"Steve?" she frowned at him.

"C'mon. She's waiting." He grabbed her hand and tugged her up wooden steps to a metal door he pounded on.

"Where the heck are we?" Rowan asked, looking for anything that would give away their location away. 

When the door swung open, revealing a haggard-looking redhead, Rowan damn near fainted. 

"Captain, no need to be so loud," Wanda Maximoff huffed, one hand pressed to her temple.

"I see Pietro made it home last night," Steve chuckled and tugged Rowan inside after the woman. 

She seemed to flutter as she walked, but that was probably the silk kimono flowing around her, revealing leggings and a sweatshirt that read "Witches do it with Magic."

"Da. And Stephen had night off. So we drink and celebrate, and Pietro brings out vodka from old country, and now my head pounds and my English is not so good." Then Wanda turned back and smiled at Rowan once they were through the hallway into the private fitting room of House of Witch. "But you bring me gorgeous girl to play with, so I forgive you for banging on door."

"Oh, I," Rowan blushed as red as Wanda's hair. "It's such a pleasure to meet you. I'm an enormous fan, Miss Maximoff."

Wanda waved a hand before snaking it past Steve and grabbing Rowan by the wrist. "You are friend of my friend, so we are friends, and you will call me Wanda. Steve tells me you need dress for gala, and I had many picked out for you, but then I see picture on WhatsApp, and I threw them out!"

"What!" Rowan gasped. "Honestly, you could put me in a sack labelled House of Witch, and I'd wear it!"

Wanda giggled, her eyes alight with amusement as she pulled Rowan to the center of the circular room. 

Decorated in deep purple, a plush velour carpet cradled Rowan's feet and covered the low pedestal where one would stand to show off the woman's stunning designs. Even the walls were a deep eggplant though the mouldings and casings were painted black, as was the chandelier above her. Black sofas in Victorian style with ornate legs and backs sat against the walls, the only shot of colour besides the purple was the red pillows, spilling out like squares of blood, and a bouquet of yellow roses on an end table. 

It was dark and brooding, and Rowan wanted to squeal and faint, unable to believe she was here for real, having dreamed of this day since she first discovered House of Witch designs. 

"Ah, and those are for you from Bucky," Wanda said, flicking her fingers at the flowers. 

"What? Why?"

Steve plucked the card off the top. "Sorry for being an ass, I promise to do better. Bucky." 

He held the card out to her, and Rowan took it with a frown. "He didn't have to do that."

"Barnes doesn't do things by halves. If he fucks up, he apologizes." Wanda shrugged as if to say that this was normal behaviour on the man's part, and Rowan - though surprised - let it go and picked up the flowers.

Yellow roses weren't her favourite flower, but she did like them, and they smelled so lovely. "I can't remember the last time I got flowers. I think it was my eighteenth birthday," she murmured, more to herself than the room, and was unaware of the look Steve shot her. 

Wanda cleared her throat. "So, as I have no burlap, you will make do with what I have. Come. Come." She clapped her hands, and Rowan shoved everything at Steve, flowers, purse, apology card and trotted after Wanda, too excited and nervous to do more than throw him a smile.

***

Steve chuckled and settled onto a couch, resigned to a few hours in the backroom of Wanda's shop. But damn if it hadn't put a smile on Rowan's face and a spring in her step.

He placed the roses back on the table and thought about hitting Bucky again. He wouldn't, they'd had a quick dinner Friday after Rowan left for school when Buck was on duty and squared things between them, but now Steve wished _he_ was the one to get Rowan flowers and put that soft, sentimental smile on her face. 

He was beginning to see she'd done little in her life but work, run, and learn these last few years and wondered when was the last time she did something because it was fun?

He arranged her stuff next to him and pulled out his phone to work on a few emails.

She was back far sooner than he expected, wearing a dress that dropped his IQ a few points.

He swallowed twice before murmuring, "Damn," as she stepped barefoot up on the dais. 

"I'm having a moment, Steve." She pressed her hands to her knees and bent over, breathing heavily through her mouth.

Concern sent him leaping up beside her to grip her by the elbows. "Hey, hey. It's okay. You're fine," he smiled when she looked up. 

"Holy grail," she whispered, clutching at his waist.

"I know, Sugar," he chuckled, lifting his hands to her face where he could run his thumbs along her cheekbones. "You need a dress. I happen to now a dressmaker."

She scoffed and looked at him with disdain. "Dressmaker? Ha! She's a genius!"

"Ooh, I like her," murmured a cocky voice Steve ignored, knowing it was just Pietro.  

"You good?" he asked, shifting his hand to cup her nape and hold her steady. 

She nodded, but he could still feel her tremble. "Take a deep breath for me, Rowan. That's a girl. And another. There you go," he smiled and praised when she followed his orders. "Good girl," he murmured and watched something change in her eyes.

Rowan quickly looked away, but not before he'd seen that little flash of desire warm her with his words. It was something to ponder later, for right now, he lifted his hand and moved so she could see the mirror. 

"Wow," he grinned. "Yeah, Wanda is a genius."

The dress was black with a thigh-high slit outlined in gold chain. Simple straps supported the modest scoop neckline, just highlighting the swell of Rowan's generous cleavage. He tried not to stare, but it was virtually impossible as her skin glowed a soft bronze beneath the overhead lights. Simple in execution, the fitted gown got its sparkle from the military-style crossbody chains and medallions.

It was stunning on her, but not quite right for the gala they were attending.

A nonprofit group Tony favoured for their tireless research and lobbying for cleaner oceans and reduction in plastic pollution was hosting their first ever gala. It would be an intimate evening of dinner, dancing and entertainment, and Tony had been first on the list to sponsor a table. He'd been watching their progress from inception, and more than once consulted on legal woes and queries when the company was small and struggling. 

The fact they had a serious Research and Development department had much to do with Stark's generous support over the years. 

"It's great, Wands, but…" He let the word hang, wincing when Wanda scowled at him.

"Ingrate," she huffed, but her smile was teasing as she motioned for Rowan to return to the back.

"Don't listen to him, Wanda. It's fantastic. Feels like butter on my skin," Rowan smirked, throwing Steve such a look as she headed for the back.

Everything below his belt clenched. Hard. "Woman," he growled, too soft for her to hear, but her smile said she inferred the tone of his lips just fine.

"So, my friend. You finally find woman worth chasing, da?" Pietro chuckled, carrying two short glasses and a bottle with no label.

"No." Steve pointed at the homemade moonshine. "Never again. Plus, I'm driving."

Pietro huffed and rolled his eyes. "Fine. Pussy. You talk, I drink." 

He flopped down on the sofa in Steve's vacated spot, forcing him to move Rowan's things before he could join the smug coxswain on the sofa built for two. 

"Asshole. You missed boy's night." Steve caught the bottle of water Pietro pulled from his pocket and tossed his way.

The silver-haired man only shrugged and smirked at his arched brow. "Always the responsible one. And I may not have been there in body, but I was in spirit. Sam sent many texts and many pictures. T'Challa and I enjoyed muchly." He tossed back a shot like it was nothing.

Steve winced for him. "Doesn't that burn?"

"Puny American lungs," he chuckled. 

He laughed and shook his head. "Fuck you."

"Enough with stalling. Tell me of beautiful girl. You work with this one, yah?"

"Yeah," Steve nodded. "She's a paralegal, a great one, and going to school part-time to get her degree." He looked in the direction the women had gone and smiled. "The more I learn about her, the more amazing I find her."

Pietro toyed with his empty glass. "Barnes said he fucked up on WhatsApp."

Steve's head snapped around. "Pardon?"

The younger man held up his hands. "He did not say how, or over what, only that he stuffed foot in mouth with your girl. He sought help from crew to fix blunder."

"Mm." Steve was placated. 

Bucky was like that. He was tough on the outside but had been mother henning Steve since they were five years old when Steve still had asthma, was smaller than most kids, and didn't know when to back down. 

Bucky hated it when he made a mistake. Mistakes in his line of work were often deadly or could put someone nasty back on the street, but that tendency to stand at Steve's shoulder like a guard dog hadn't waned. Not even when Steve grew into his ears, finally losing the nicknames Shrimp and Dumbo; the ones that caused the biggest fights between Bucky and the bullies. 

Bucky was his older - though not necessarily wiser - brother. 

They didn't need to share blood to share brotherhood.

He went back to watching the doorway. "Rowan's special. I'm glad he's pulled his head out of his ass."

"Da," Pietro murmured, a smile pulling at his lips. "I can see she is. But is she special, or is she _special_?"

He glanced at Pietro. "I'll let you know when I figure that out."

A high pitched giggle dragged his attention back to the doorway. 

Rowan strode out, her arm linked through Wanda's. 

Steve lost the ability to breathe. The new dress was seafoam green, long slices of silk mixed with woven patches, and mesh bits. The plunging neckline highlighted the unique geometric pattern of the dress, but it was the dark mark in the low valley between her breasts that grabbed his heart and squeezed.

"Bet you didn't know about tattoo," Pietro snickered.

"Shut up," Steve growled, rising to his feet to meet Rowan at the small dais. He offered his hand to help her up and turned with her toward the mirror. "You look incredible."

"It's amazing," she sighed, running a hand down her waist. Rowan looked dazzled, her eyes sparkling with so much joy he wondered if he would taste it on her lips if he kissed her.

Wanda hummed, a frown on her face as she circled.

"What?" Steve asked, having seen that look before. 

"No. It won't do." Wanda waved Rowan down. "Come. I have something else in mind."

"Oh, but…" Rowan bit her lip.

Steve lightly stroked his fingers down her arm. "Best just to go with it. She once made me change my suit nine times."

"But… it's so pretty," Rowan pouted.

"Give the girl moment, sestra. She likes, da?" Pietro asked, holding out a shot glass full of clear liquid.

Rowan smiled but shook her head. "Thanks, but I can't right now."

Pietro pouted and handed it to Wanda, who tossed it back without blinking. "You look ravishing, but sestra is right." He shoved Steve out of the way and took Rowan's hand, tugging her from the dais. "Is pretty dress, but will tangle when dancing." He spun Rowan out, and pulled her in, dipping her grandly over his arm and annoying Steve in the process.

The loose hem along the split did, indeed, wrap around Rowan's ankle. "Okay, I see."

The pink in her cheeks deepened when Pietro bowed grandly to her. "Perhaps you will save Pietro a dance?"

"Oh!" Rowan shot Steve a quick look. "You're going to be at the gala too?"

"Eventually, we are bound to cross paths." He pressed his lips to her knuckles.

"Pietro. Enough," Wanda huffed, dragging Rowan away. 

Steve waited only until Rowan disappeared before clipping Pietro in the back of the head. "Stop flirting with my woman."

The silver-haired devil grinned. "Perhaps now you will stop drooling and start growling. She is pretty she-wolf. She needs big wolf to chase her. You act like sheep."

"You're an ass," Steve huffed. "Stop telling me how to act."

He tapped his chest. "Coxswain."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Loudmouth."

Pietro snickered and wandered off. "Good hunting, Captain."

***

Rowan fidgeted. She was basically naked. Standing in her underwear and robe, she felt like one of the brides on Say Yes To The Dress. So far, she would say yes to all the dresses. 

The back fitting rooms were just as elegant as the formal reveal room. Here the walls were lilac with white trim, showing off the clothing in different lighting. And other women were being fitted, faces Rowan recognized from television and magazines, but Wanda Maximoff was attending none of them. 

It caused looks of anger or envy to be thrown at her, along with ones of deep curiosity. 

She was happy to be shut into a large dressing room away from prying eyes. 

Wanda returned with a light knock. "This. This is the one." She walked in with a garment bag in blood-red over her arm, only to pause, frown, and quietly shut the door. "Are you alright?"

"I'm having an out of body experience. Or maybe Steve killed us on the way over, and this is heaven," Rowan blurted.

Wanda chuckled and hung the bag before taking a seat beside Rowan. She took Rowan's hand and patted it gently. "Is no dream. You are here. I'm am just like you. We are not so different."

Rowan snorted. "I'm pretty sure I saw Kate Beckinsale out there. That's not my usual crowd."

Again Wanda snickered. "Nor mine. I dress the stars, but I do not run in same circles. I date neurosurgeon, who has taken ten years to pull head from ass and ask me out. I consider Steve and crew my best friends. I would rather drink beer and lounge beside pool with them than rub shoulders with elite. I came from old country for better life. I worked hard. I'm fortunate to have success, but I remember going hungry."

"You do?" Rowan whispered, surprised. 

"Da. We struggled, Pietro and I. Two orphans in new country with no clue." She chuckled and shook her head. "He adjusted better than me. Is why he travels and expands our line. I am not so good with people as he." Rowan made to protest that, but Wanda waved her off. "One on one is fine. I am not good with corporations. Pietro is smooth. He talks smooth. He makes it look easy."

"He's almost as smooth as Steve," Rowan snickered.

"Almost?" Wanda smirked. "I think I hear story now of meeting, da?"

Rowan laughed and nodded, suddenly much more relaxed. Wanda was great at putting her at ease, but she felt a sharper connection than before with the scarlett haired woman.

So she told the story of Steve running her down in the hall and let Wanda help her into the new dress. She talked about the coffee shop, and him picking her up from school, and being so kind. She blushed when Wanda cast her a knowing glance and fiddled with her fingers when Wanda bid her sit and began fussing with Rowan's hair.

"Steve is inherently kind man, but he must like you quite a lot to do all those things."

Wanda looked her in the eyes and Rowan slumped. "I know."

"Do you… not like him too?"

Rowan snapped her head up. "No! I mean, yes! I mean…" She groaned and slapped her hands to her face. "It's so complicated!"

"Why? Love is easy."

"I'm not in love with him!" Rowan huffed.

"Yet," Wanda snickered.

"It's not that easy," she sighed. "Look, I'm sure Detective Barnes spilled the beans to everyone already, but Steve is helping me out financially. My aunt is sick, terminally ill. She's likely only got months left, and between school, her care, and my hours being cut, I'm stretched too thin. He paid for her care for the next few months, and while I'm grateful - so, so grateful - I don't want him to think, I'm afraid he'll, people have tried to…" She gave a frustrated sigh and finally snapped, "I'm not a gold-digging whore! I didn't ask for any of this!"

Wanda gasped. "Is _that_ what Barnes said?"

Rowan's skin burned she blushed so hard, but she gave a short nod and knuckled away the tears threatening to spill down her face. "I don't have time for a relationship, and now there is money involved, and it still wigs me out because he's so _nice_ and I don't deserve-" She snapped her teeth together to cut off what was about to spill out her mouth.

"Rowan…" Wanda breathed, her shock evident. "Everyone deserves love." 

"Everyone I love keeps dying," she whispered, utterly confused as to why she was dumping her baggage on the woman she admired for so long.

"Oh, _milaya_ ," she whispered and wrapped her arms around Rowan. 

Rowan burst into wild tears and grabbed onto her. It had been so long, so damn long, since she'd had a woman to confide in. She felt terrible for dumping everything in Wanda's lap, but first Stephen, than Steve, and finally Barnes had jabbed at the door locking up her feelings. 

They flooded out all over Wanda. 

She had no idea how long they sat there clinging to each other, but when Rowan gave a shuddering breath and pulled away, embarrassment growing, Wanda grabbed her face and kissed both her cheeks. 

"Thank you for trusting me."

The simple sentence set Rowan off a second time, but only for a few quick sobs before she managed to get a hold of herself. "I don't have any girlfriends. You made me feel…" She didn't know how to describe it.

"I do not have many female friends either. Just Natasha and Maria, but you will have me now, da?" Rowan gave a shaky smile. "Good. We will have lunch. I will introduce you to Natasha, and we can both bitch about how thin she is." Wanda smirked, a twinkle in her eyes. "She is ballerina."

"Oh, my God! Really? Waifish bitch," Rowan giggled.

Wanda laughed and patted her hands. "Nat will love you!"

Rowan hoped so. She never expected to make a friend of the woman whose clothing she coveted, but in the last forty minutes, she'd come to realize the beauty of the clothing was nothing compared to the beauty of the soul behind their creation.

"Thank you, Wanda," she whispered.

The woman hugged her again, then went for wet wipes and tissue. "Now, we mop up and fix your face, so we do not give Steve heart attack."

Rowan glanced at the mirror and flinched. "Oh, boy." Ravaged didn't begin to describe the damage done to her makeup. "I've cried more in a week than I have in years."

"Tears aren't weakness," Wanda said, pulling out her phone and shooting off a text. "Pietro will bring supplies."

A knock came barely seconds later, startling them both.

Wanda went to get it as Rowan wiped the rest of the damage from her face. 

"You didn't come back. I just wanted to check-" 

Rowan glanced at the door where Steve was peering past Wanda. His eyes widened, and he pushed past her, hurrying to Rowan's side. She tried to turn away, but he wouldn't let her.

He cupped her cheek, his touch tender. "Rowan, Sugar, what happened?" 

There was a note of accusation in his tone she knew was directed at Wanda, but Rowan ran her hand up his chest and curled it at the base of his skull. On a watery smile, she whispered, "You have really great friends."

Wanda snuck out and shut the door, leaving them alone with a wink only Rowan witnessed.

"Friends who make you cry," he grumbled. "First Buck, now Wanda. What the fuck?" 

Rowan couldn't help but chuckle. "Stephen started it."

"What!" 

She laughed and shook her head. "I've a lot of stuff buried in here." Her nail tapped her chest. "They've poked a few holes in the door it's all locked behind. You've poked a few yourself."

His face softened into puppy eyes, tinged with sorrow. "I wasn't trying to."

"I know," she sighed and turned away like a coward, unable to say what she needed to with him staring at her. "I've… been alone for a long time. To have people show an interest? Care about me? It's… disconcerting. It's weird."

"Why?" he whispered, stepping into her back, his hands firm on her waist.

"Because… I want it, and it scares me." She looked up and locked eyes with him in the mirror. "I've been alone a long time."

He drew her back until she rested against his chest. Something hot flared in his eyes as he secured her to him, arm tight around her waist. It made her shiver when his hand slipped over her stomach and flattened her to his body.

She watched the other slide big and warm across her collarbone until it wrapped lightly around her throat. His thumb pressed into her jugular and tilted her head, a soft whimper left her throat, and her lashes fluttered at the sensuality of the move.

Steve watched her watch him as he lowered his lips to her ear. "You're not alone, Rowan. Not anymore." Those lips skimmed her throat and made her shake gently in his unbreakable hold.

"Steve.. we work together," she protested.

"So do Pepper and Tony," he whispered, mouth gliding up her jaw. 

"They're married."

"They weren't always," he chuckled, and the rumble rippled through her body.

"I have school. I don't have time-" He bit down on her neck and lit an inferno in her belly.

"And yet, we keep finding time to spend together." He placed an open mouth kiss on her shoulder. 

"You gave me money," she moaned.

"Rowan," he growled. "That has nothing to do with this." His hands tightened. "I have it in spades. It's nothing to use it to help you."

"It means _everything_ to me," she choked, tears threatening anew. "I can't thank you-"

He spun her around, hard body slamming into soft, and gripped her nape. Rowan's knees threatened to give out, would have if not for his iron grip at her waist. She'd never seen such desire aimed at her before.

"I'm not asking you to thank me. I did it because I care. I care about you, what you need, what you want."

"And what do you want?" she whispered, already knowing the answer. 

"You." He ducked his head, pausing a breath from her lips. "I want you, Rowan. I want to help you. I want to watch you succeed. I want to buy you things; I want to watch your face light up like it did today. I want to find out if your shoe collection is as large as I imagine it is. I want to know you're taken care of, and I want to do the caring."

His lips brushed feather-light over hers, and Rowan shuddered. It was so, so tempting to just give in. So tempting. Her mouth burned, tingling from that one brief point of contact. 

"They'll call me gold digger, say I'm after your money, that I'm your sugar baby," she whispered, heart pounding in her throat.

"Let them," he growled. "I don't fucking care. I've got it to spare."

"But your friends," she protested feebly, her hands already tightening on him, drawing him closer.

"My friends aren't stupid. They know me better than that. They will know you're better than that, just like Wanda does. Bucky's an idiot, but he's apologized because he already gets it. You're not after my money, Rowan. I know that."

"I don't know how to do this," she whispered. "I'm… afraid to mess it up. You're the first good thing to happen in a long time, and-" 

He kissed her, the slow brush of his mouth causing her breath to catch as she melted, free falling, unable to think past the gentle pull of his lips on hers. He licked her lips apart and sank between them, using his tongue to tease and tempt, coaxing hers to play and dance until she was breathless and broke away.

His mouth instantly went to her jaw, where he nibbled like she was delicious, a sweet to savour. "Can I keep you?" he whispered, sending such a thrill through her she shook all over.

"Casper was a favourite movie of mine when I was younger," she whispered. Even after her parent's death, it had been strangely comforting to her.

"That movie broke me," Steve chuckled, "Question still stands," he murmured, resting their foreheads together.

"I'm… not good at this," she sighed. "You could have anyone."

"I don't want anyone. I want you." He took her mouth; this kiss a claiming that sizzled, turned her brain to mush, and left her breathless and weak.

He backed her into the wall. "I want you, Rowan. I want to hear about school, discuss the law with you, sympathize when you bitch about Fury. I like your smart mouth and quick mind. You keep me on my toes. I want to know about this shoe fetish I think you have, and maybe contribute to it. I have an innate need to be there for you when you're sad, and I want to punch the world for making the start of your life so damn hard. Please, Rowan. Give this; give _me_ a chance."

She groaned softly. So much for not giving in today.

"Okay. With conditions!" she added quickly before he could do what those ridiculously blue eyes were promising she'd enjoy.

He arched an amused brow. "I'm listening."

"Work is work. No monkey business on company time. I need my job, Steve."

He appeared to think it over for a moment before sliding his body firmly against hers. "Counter proposal?"

"I'm listening." She hoped she could focus that long. The man was lethal to her sanity.

"One kiss when we're alone, behind closed doors, without witnesses."

"Addendum. You can't mess up my hair, clothing, or makeup."

"Agreed, as long as you don't wear lipstick that smears or transfers."

She snorted indignantly. "Like I would ever."

"Second addendum?"

"I'm listening."

He rolled his hips against her, giving her a taste of what was happening below his belt. "You come as my date when I need one, school permitting, and I get to buy you a new dress every time."

"Steve!" she gasped. "That's completely unnecessary-" Her voice broke on a whimper when he licked his way up her throat. 

"Completely necessary," he purred in her ear. "You light up when you try stuff on. You're all excited and happy. I love it. You look gorgeous, by the way. " His hands stroked the curve of her hips and waist. 

"I'm a red-eyed mess," she sighed. 

"Rowan, you're as beautiful after you cry as before. Look at you." He dragged her from the wall and spun her to face the mirror. "The last two dresses were nice, but they were wearing you. This one?" He shook his head as his gaze raked over her. "This was _made_ for you. It's perfect."

She could only stare at the woman in the mirror. Before now, she hadn't really noticed. Wanda didn't let her look until she was on the dais, and this time she'd been distracted, Wanda playing with her hair, and then she had a mental meltdown. 

The royal blue dress fit her like a second skin, baring her cleavage and her tattoo. The bodice was fitted, encasing and lifting her breasts, held up by thin straps that crossed over the plunging back. Seaming highlighted all her assets before falling into a mermaid skirt. But at her waist, giving the simple style flare, was a little bit of ruched draping. 

Rowan could only stare at herself in amazement. "Damn," she whispered, making Steve laugh. 

"Right?" he grinned, stroking his hands over her. One daring finger drifted up and tucked into the valley of the dress's neckline. "You got any other tattoos?"

She grinned. "Guess you'll have to wait and find out."

He rubbed his fingertip up and down the flesh darkened by ink. "What's this mean?"

"It's an Unalome. The spirals symbolize the twists and turns in life, and the straight lines the moment one reaches enlightenment or peace and harmony. After my parents," she took a deep breath, aware of his hand pressed beneath her breast like it was part of her, "I was really lost. I felt like I was spiralling. Aunt Peggy, she found it, told me it's meaning. She said I was just starting my spirals. We got matching ones though her's is on her ankle." Rowan took his hand, brought it to the center of the tattoo where it started and walked his finger around the lines of ink. "I feel like the dip, here," she brought his finger down to the loop at the base, "is where Peggy got sick. Now, I'm working my way through the switchbacks. Eventually," she stroked his finger up the long straight line, "I'll figure out my purpose and grow in maturity."

"And these?" He gently stroked the dots at the top. His breath was coming hot and fast against her back, and arm tightened until she could feel the heat of him seeping through her skin. 

"The end. We all come to it eventually," she panted, a blush pinking her cheeks. 

She watched herself in the mirror with him, his hands big but gentle, eyes a blue so bright they almost glowed from his heavy-lidded eyes. 

"But not soon," Steve whispered, petting that skin like it was precious to him.

Rowan closed her eyes and sighed as she leaned against him. It felt nice, and when his fingers slipped and stroked the inner flesh of her breasts, she enjoyed that too.

"Rowan, honey. You keep this up, and I'm gonna need to pet more of you to see if you purr like a kitten when I touch other places," he crooned, nipping her ear.

She hadn't even known she was making a soft humming noise until he mentioned it. 

"Come on. You need shoes to go with your dress. Then we can go for dinner."

"Did you plan a sneaky date?" she chuckled.

"Maybe," he said sheepishly.

She tipped her head back to look up at him — bright blue eyes, soft smile, a face that could make Angel's weep. 

Yeah, she was thoroughly screwed, but she didn't mind anymore, especially when he ducked his head and kissed her again.

  
  



End file.
